Moonlight  A Novelization
by North021884
Summary: Conspiracy, friendship, murder, lust, romance - & the undead. Full-length ML novel picking up after Sonata. New installment now available here in abbreviated form;full posting at capeandsaber. Rated M. PLEASE review! 2 sequel novels are planned...
1. Foreword

Foreword

In the fall of 2007, CBS unleashed a show called "Moonlight" upon unsuspecting viewers. The combination of classic detective storylines with noir undertones, and the unexpected twist on vampire lore, immediately made the show a cult classic.

Sadly, despite millions of devoted viewers, consistently winning its Friday 9:00 PM timeslot (a notoriously difficult period ratings–wise) and even a "People's Choice Award" for Best New Drama, CBS cancelled the series in 2008 – just before "Twilight" hit theaters and "True Blood" premiered on HBO later that same year. From that point forward, vampires were hot and this trend shows no sign of abating.

Fans took to the streets, launching letter writing campaigns, and even holding massive blood drives to get their beloved series back on the air, but to no avail. Frustrated with the politics of network television, the push is now on for "Moonlight" to rise again in the form of a movie, much in the successful tradition of other previously cancelled shows, such as "Star Trek" and "Firefly". The focus is now on Warner Brothers, who holds the rights to "Moonlight" and has the power to bring this to fruition.

This fan novel, which sprang from the fevered imaginations of five devotees, is an attempt to show how the story can grow and develop from its television roots. The work is done purely out of love and a sincere desire to see this witty, smart, sexy and, yes – heartfelt - story revived. Seriously, if "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" can get a film treatment, surely it is time for "Moonlight" to take its rightful place on the silver screen.

We sincerely hope that, in the meantime, this work at least slightly fills the void left when the show was taken off the air as we continue to push for – and demand – our movie. In the words of Josef Kostan, "It is soooo ON!"

**Vampire Solidarity – Ra, Ra, Ra**!

Sincerely,

Brat, North, Teresa, Margaret and Victoria

Cape and Saber (.com)


	2. Prologue

Prologue

I've been walking the earth for 85 years – most of them as a vampire, trapped as an eternal 30–year–old. I know, I know, 'there's no such thing as vampires'.

But, you know, there are a LOT of things in this world that humans don't want to admit exist: liars and cheats, all kinds of perverse murderers…How many times have you heard about a mother who killed her own child? They are all monsters. If they exist, is it so hard to believe in vampires?

You have no idea how terrifying it is to go to sleep a human – and wake up a monster. I certainly didn't ask to be what I am – and I've been fighting to find a way to live this undead existence ever since I was 'turned' by Coraline, my ex–wife.

For the most part, I live off blood bank supplies. I don't hunt people – unless they are predators themselves, who deserve what they get. I don't feed off what we call 'freshies' – humans who are willing to provide us with their blood and fulfill 'other' needs.

Yeah, that's right, I said 'us'. I'm not alone, at least not that way. There are a few hundred vamps just in the L.A. area alone; many more around the world. My best friend, Josef Kostan, is the head of the vamp community here – and he's over 400 years old.

85 years. It's nothing for a vampire, but seems like an eternity when you've been so lonely for so much of that time. I left my human life to protect those I loved from the very real danger of me and 'my kind'.

No family, no friends, nothing from my life before could follow me. That creates the kind of loneliness that leaves you feeling empty and hollowed–out. You don't even have enough in you to cry about how lonely you feel.

Someone asked me once why I kept on living – and I had a hard time coming up with an answer. I'm a monster. If I have any humanity left, why would I want to live?

You know that old cliché about wanting something so badly you can taste it?

Well, I have. Tasted what I wanted, that is.

I tried to deny it, run away from it, and when I finally realized that there was nothing I could do but surrender to it, I almost lost it – lost her.

I can still see that beautiful face, crying, telling me that she just couldn't do this anymore. But, this time, I couldn't just walk away. I couldn't close the door on Beth – MY Beth.

And now that we're here, I'm afraid to believe that I might actually have what I've wanted – and needed – for so many years.

Because the only thing worse than wanting something you can't have is having what you need – and then losing it….


	3. Chapter 1, Happily Ever After?

Moonlight – A Movie Novelization 1. Happily Ever After?

**Chapter 1**

**Happily Ever After?**

Intro: "A Love Divine" by Seal

Slivers of sunlight crept in through the slits between the blinds, casting a warm glow on the occupants of the bed, awakening one of them.

The man's eyes snapped open and he eased his arm out from under the head of the woman beside him. Sitting up, he rubbed tiredly at his face and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes, as if the light were painful. With a sigh, he straightened, allowing his hands to drop into his lap. Penetrating hazel eyes, fringed with long lashes, blinked in an attempt to adjust to the light of the new day.

He smiled down at his sleeping companion, still not quite able to believe his fortune. After denying himself companionship for over 50 years, he had grown to love this woman whom he had watched over from afar for so long. And she was willing to love him back.

Casual observers might see only a smile, but his eyes held sadness, borne from a fear that this, like all good things in his life, would somehow disappear or be taken from him. This time, though, it was different – somehow, she made it different. As had now become his custom in moments of doubt or dread, he turned to her, as if – or perhaps, because – she was his salvation.

She was lying on her side facing him, cheek pillowed on her hand, her hair spilling across the pillow like a wave, shining in the faint light. Her shoulders and one bare arm were all that were visible on top of the covers, a hint of goose bumps forming on her silken skin. He noted this evidence of how blessedly cold the room was. It was one of Beth's acts of kindness, turning the thermostat down as far as it would go, allowing him to sleep more comfortably beside her.

His smile grew wider as images of the night just past, their first together, flitted across his mind. He had craved her touch, trying to make up in one night, what he had denied himself for so many years. As he lingered on these memories, his need to touch her again grew.

Underneath the mound of blankets, the rest of her was as bare as her arm, the thought alone stirring him. He reached out to caress her cheek, smoothing a stray lock of hair back from her face. His touch prompted a smile from her, even while she still slept, as if she could feel him. He tentatively rested his hand on her bare shoulder, reassuring himself that she was really here, his touch was as light as a whisper of breeze on her skin as his fingers gently traced a line down her arm. He paused, then settled his hand over her breast, so he could feel, as well as hear, the beating of her heart.

"If you keep doing that, you will **never** get to leave this bed!"

Clear blue eyes blinked open and Beth smiled up at him, putting all her love into the look. She reached up, tangling her fingers in the thick curls at the base of his neck and drew his face down to hers.

With the brush of her lips, Mick St. John let go of his fears, his sadness, all of it.

The vampire wondered at the effect this one woman had on him. How could she, with her smile, her touch, heal decades of hurt? The answer was simply because it was Beth, and the immortal at last accepted that wonderful truth.

Of course, his ego, the universal constant shared by all men, was not going to let her win so completely.

"OK, OK, I get it – you want to get rid of me," he protested, as he rolled down on his side, propping his head up with one well–muscled arm in order to face her.

Beth Turner laughed. "Oh, yeah, right! That's always what I do when I want to get rid of someone!" She put the palm of her hand over his heart, mimicking his gesture and marveled at the feel of him, his skin cool and silky to the touch. Far from repulsing her, she already thought of that as erotic and desirable. It didn't hurt that he was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. What really made him special, however, was not his looks, but his heart. He may be a vampire, but Mick St. John was one of the most caring people she had ever met.

Wordlessly, she leaned in to kiss him again, taking the time to nuzzle, to stroke his face, and enjoy his caress.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the alarm clock rudely chose to remind them both of their obligations.

Mick, yawning widely, tossed off his covers and stretched before rising from the bed, his nude form gliding toward the bathroom.

Beth ogled him unabashedly, admiring every inch of male perfection now in full view. She laughed when he turned to look back at her, quizzically raising one eyebrow, answering with a bold stare, eyeing him up and down. He finally responded with a smile – that smile – and, shaking his head, turned to disappear into the bathroom.

Listening to the shower start, Beth lay back on her pillow and reflected on how much her life had changed, her mind reliving the coincidences and events that had ultimately brought them together.

Just a few months ago, she had seemed set on a predictable course. She had just started as an on–air correspondent for BuzzWire, an on–line 24 hour 'news' show, best described as "CNN for 20–somethings". At least that was the way **she** liked to think of it. When she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that it was a tabloid organization, with a smattering of serious news. Her editor, Maureen, had been willing to indulge Beth's passion for serious reporting as long as she could put a juicy spin on it - and in Los Angeles, it was never to hard to find the sensational angle.

It was during her first live at–the–scene broadcast of a particularly bizarre murder of a young woman that she had met the handsome private investigator, Mick St. John. She was immediately drawn to him – in truth, she had the feeling that she already knew him.

Beth had pushed Mick to work with her on the investigation of the co–ed's death. The trail eventually led to a university professor who used the attraction of the vampire legend to seduce his young female students. After meeting with the professor as part of her undercover report - and fleeing from his subsequent attack - Beth was drugged and kidnapped by the real killer, the professor's unstable teaching assistant. He would have killed her had Mick not risked his own life to rescue her.

The hazy recollection Beth had of the events of that night hadn't made much sense to her; she'd thought she had seen him run down the car on foot and survive a stabbing rescue had also brought back memories of the night she was kidnapped as a little girl, just over two decades ago, by someone she used to think of as "the scary woman". She'd thought she recognized Mick as the man who had saved her, but he had dismissed all such assertions as the ramblings of a traumatized mind. She went along – after all, this had happened over 20 years ago and he looked to be no more than thirty.

Her reporter's instincts, nurtured by an insanely inquisitive nature, screamed against her acceptance of his explanation, but he was so adamant that she had been willing to accept it at the time. All that had mattered to her battered psyche was that she felt safe with him.

Just a few days later, the gnawing feeling that Mick was hiding something from her had been proven correct.

Lee Jay Spalding was a convicted murderer who was released from prison after 25 years, as a result of a book that questioned the evidence in the case. Evidence contaminated by "Mick's father". That was the explanation St. John provided for the presence of a 1950 picture of a private investigator that looked enough like him to be his twin. Complicating the case even further, it was a close friend of Beth's that had written the book. Julia Stephens had not only researched the case to 'prove' Lee Jay's innocence, she had become involved with him.

Mick was incensed at the release of this killer, and had made it his mission to make sure Spalding never harmed another woman.

Initially scoffing at his assertions, even angry with his aggressive behavior toward Spalding, Beth again was proven wrong. Mick had recognized the monster that no one else could see – not even she, the investigative journalist, nor her friend, the book's author and Spalding's girlfriend.

This time, however, the killer was laid low by her own hand. Acting instinctively to protect the injured St. John, Beth had killed Spalding with one shot. Afterward, she was confused and in shock. She'd killed someone! Even if he was a murderer, even if he was threatening Mick, the reality of taking a life had shaken her to her core.

Within a blink and a breath, Mick had eerily vanished from the crime scene - but how could he have gone? She knew he had been shot...she'd seen the blood on his coat and the holes caused by the buckshot from Spalding's gun. His disappearance only compounded her confusion, but she shook off the haze induced by all that had happened and left the chaotic scene as soon as possible, heading for Mick's home to check on him. She wanted – needed – to know he was okay.

The open door to his apartment, the sight of him on his knees, back bloodied, leaning against the foyer table, had confirmed her fears. He was wounded, and needed help.

She had tried to offer assistance, but was rejected by Mick, who turned away from her, only serving to reinforce her tenacity. What was wrong with him? Long, tense moments had passed before the dance of avoidance was over and they at last faced.

Nothing in her reality could have prepared her for the pale stare, the blood, the fangs...

"Please don't look at me!"

Immediately, Beth had regretted her reaction - the gasp and the expression of horror that must have played across her face. Those anguished words and the pitiable plea in his voice still echoed in her ears. His expression had been one of resignation and shame. It moved her beyond fear to ask a ludicrous question, bracing for the unacceptable answer.

"What are you?"

"I'm a vampire." The impossible reply came reluctantly, his face betraying defeat.

The revelation was both astounding and frightening.

He later told her she was the first human with whom he'd ever shared the tragedy of how he had become a vampire –how his ex–wife, Coraline, had turned him without his consent on their wedding night. He had had no inkling that she was anything other than human. In his pained words, "I went to bed a happily married man – and woke up a monster."

How did she repay this rare confidence? She'd gone a week without even calling him. Even then, the contact was at the behest of Josh Lindsay, her boyfriend, who worked as an assistant district attorney. Suspicious of leaks within his department, he'd needed St. John's help to find a missing witness. Later, she gave Mick the weak excuse that she had needed "time to process". He had deserved better.

The more she was around Mick, the more intrigued and attracted she had become, despite her fears – and despite her relationship with Josh.

Beth couldn't pinpoint the moment when she realized that her feelings had changed. She only knew that on the fateful afternoon when her blood had saved Mick's life, "something" had happened between them. Even Josh had felt it, despite her vigorous denials. She was lying to both men...and to herself.

What about the trip to New York, when she could have done the honorable thing by both men? On the night she and Mick were to leave to pursue the case they were working on, Josh had again confronted her about her feelings toward St. John, and she hadn't denied them. Had Mick not come to her apartment at that moment to collect her, she knew what her answer would have been. Josh was giving her an out, telling her what they both really already knew.

And, how had she handled it? She'd left Josh behind to travel to New York with Mick. Then, she'd ignored her feelings, leaving New York and Mick, to return to Los Angeles and her mockery of a relationship.

She could still remember the look on Mick's face that night in New York when she left, one corner of his mouth ticking upward in a sad attempt at a smile. His hand was splayed against hers, separated by the cab window, as her thumb stroked the glass where their fingers might have – should have – touched.

More out of fear of her growing feelings towards Mick – and all that a relationship with the vampire could entail – than any belief that her future was with Josh, Beth had tried to pretend that nothing had changed. There was something comforting and safe about the mortal steadiness of him. Josh was a decent, honorable man; attractions and desires aside, she could have a normal life with him.

Ultimately, fate cast a different lot for her. Within a few months, Josh was murdered as the result of a drug case he was prosecuting – one from which he had initially recused himself, only to return at her insistence that he not back down. He died, leaving her with a small inheritance, his grandmother's newly-set engagement ring – and a mountain of regret.

Mick's efforts to save Josh that day had been heroic, but doomed to failure. Although she had begged the vampire to 'turn' Josh when human efforts to save him failed, he had, rightly, refused. In the aftermath of Josh's death, confusion, fear, and overwhelming guilt made her resentful and angry. Mick had been patient and understanding through it all, even when she had unfairly lashed out at him and pushed him away. It had taken time for her to work through her conflicting emotions and admit what she felt for him, allowing her relationship with him to resume.

He didn't deserve what she'd put him through.

"Hey – Beth – I left the water running for you." Mick's voice snapped her back to the present.

As he emerged from the bathroom – wet, hair dripping – with a towel wrapped around his waist, she struggled with herself, fighting to maintain control. Everything she felt for him was welling up inside her. It wasn't just his appearance, but his wit, humor, intelligence, kindness – so many attributes packed into one being. It made the memory of her actions yesterday evening all the more painful. After months of fighting the attraction she felt for him, last night she had told him that she didn't want to continue. It had broken her heart, but in her despair over recent events, brought to a tragic apex by the Monaghan case, she didn't see any other option.

Because Mick had always been the consummate gentleman with her, she had expected him to walk away after her pronouncement, and never return. He **did** leave, but, as she stood in the foyer of her apartment, sobbing inconsolably, he burst back through the door. His words – about love, about being together in the here and now – had cut through the wall of despair surrounding her.

She had remembered her conversation with Emma Monaghan, and how touched she had been when Emma said she still remembered what her husband, Jackson, was wearing when they first met 150 years before. That had made the vampire seem human to her eyes.

Last night, she had put that question to Mick when he rushed back into her apartment. Taking a deep breath, she'd spoken, without turning around. "The night we met – or met again, whatever – what was I wearing?"

"Blue jeans, white–striped shirt, cream jacket." The answer came without hesitation.

She spun around. "What about my shoes?"

"You were barefoot." The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes.

Her face still wet from her tears, Beth cried, "How can you remember that?"

"Because I love you." His eyes bored into hers with the simple answer.

That was it – from that moment on, she knew they had to be together, no matter how hard she fought against it, and regardless of how difficult, dangerous or complicated their life might be.

This vampire – this man – was where life and fate had led her.

The night that followed had been intense, with the pent–up emotions of the last several months spilling out. Mick, in particular, seemed to crave physical contact, telling her repeatedly how wonderful it felt just to hold and be held.

Sitting there on the bed, all of it hit her… the memories coalesced into a slide show in her mind. Her shame grew as she reviewed her behavior. She'd insisted so many times that he was not a monster, that he was worthy, yet how many times had she pulled away?

And now, as he'd always been, Mick was here, ready to make everything right.

"Beth… what's wrong?"

With no warning, she jumped up from the bed and ran to him, pressing her naked form into him. She burrowed her face into his muscular chest, hugging him as tightly as she could.

"Mick, I'm so sorry… I never should have sent you away, I never should have blamed you for Josh's death, I never should have doubted you, I love you, I …"

"Hey, it's okay. Beth, it's okay. We're here now. That's all over and done. Let it go." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

The sense of peace she so often felt within the security of his arms overtook her. She lifted her face to his and kissed him, her lips lingering, then moving over his body, her hands following.

She wanted to show him just how much she needed him, how thankful she was that he'd stayed. How much she loved him – all of him, vampire and human. As the moments ticked on, Mick returned her kisses in kind, growing arousal calling them both back to bed, each touch a heady mixture of love and lust.

Then, as if on cue, both of their cell phones rang.

It took Mick and Beth a moment to pull themselves out of their intimate world and back to reality. They dove for their respective phones – his in pants discarded on the bedroom floor, hers buried deep within her purse, hanging just a few feet away.

Neither was pleased with what showed on their displays.

"Why is Talbot calling?"

"Josef calling this early can't be good…"

Turning away, Mick said "Yeah, Josef…"

Beth, brooding over the interruption, hit the 'answer' button on her phone.

"Hello, Talbot, you are working early. What can I do for you?" Her face grew concerned. "Of course – no, I didn't know – I haven't had the news on this morning. I'll be in as quickly as I can." Thumbing the 'off' button, she turned to Mick, who was just hanging up with Josef.

Simultaneously, they chorused, "Trouble!"

End: "Back to Life" by Soul II Soul

**This is the first chapter of Moonlight: A Novelization, a full-length novel, picking up where the Moonlight TV series ended. Because the Fanfic format is not able to accommodate some of the features of our novel, such as music and photo embedding, the first portion of each chapter will be posted here, with the full chapter posted on the multi-genre site, ****capeandsaber**** (.com.)/fiction. Hope to see you there!**

Page 7


	4. Chapter 2, What A Difference A Day Makes

Chapter 2 What a Difference a Day Makes

_It's amazing what a difference a day can make. Yesterday, I had to watch a vampire couple be executed for threatening to betray the vamp community – a mortal sin among our kind. That kind of thing stays with you._

_I didn't think things could get any worse – until I went to see Beth…_

_She accusingly labeled what happened as 'vampires dispensing vampire justice'. She wasn't wrong, but I couldn't find a way to help her understand – the only thing we vamps have going for us is secrecy. Without it…. we're an extinct species._

_It was too much for her to accept. I thought it was the end for us – she sent me away, told me "I don't think I can do this anymore." She was right when she said that I couldn't come back to her world– as much as I want to – and she isn't ready to join mine._

_Her concern is that, someday, I will want to turn her – or that maybe she will want it when she starts to get old. Too often, humans are hooked on what will be tomorrow, when they should be looking at what **is** today. Who can say what the future holds? I just want to enjoy the present._

_My heart almost stopped when she sent me away. I've never felt despair like that, not even when I first realized that Coraline had turned me into a vampire on our wedding night._

_I did what she asked – I left. I got a few steps from her door and… I just couldn't go any further. When the door to her apartment closed, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut and all the air in my lungs was just – gone. But, I realized that I couldn't shut the door on Beth – on us – without one last try at reaching her. Thank God I did!_

_Somehow, what I said made sense to her. When she stepped into my arms, I don't think I've ever been so happy – from the depths of despair to being over the moon in a few brief moments._

_Last night, our first night together, was everything I had ever dreamed about – and more. It was what I'd been longing for through all the lonely years._

_How **does** an immortal handle mortal feelings? I guess I'll learn as I go. Last night I felt the love, warmth and excitement that I thought only humans could feel._

_Just to lie in Beth's bed and hold her, to feel the beating of her heart made me forget what I am. I felt human again._

_I know, I know. I'm the one who said vampire/human relationships are "difficult, dangerous and complicated."_

_Yeah, yeah, I also said it always ends badly._

_Hey! What would I know? I haven't been in a relationship with a human since I was turned! After last night, I'm glad I didn't take my own advice._

_There is nothing in the world that can wipe the smile off my face today._

_Well nothing, that is, until a very paranoid Josef calls my cell phone, demanding my presence._

_No matter what it is that Josef wants, he can't spoil this day for me…._

Intro: "Trouble" by Pink

Mick St. John floored the accelerator, the wind – and the sudden rain – blowing through the open window. It was mud–slide season in California and despite his having lived in Los Angeles his whole life, he was often surprised by the rapidly moving storm fronts that blew through. He didn't mind; on this day, everything felt exhilarating.

Screeching to a halt in front of Josef Kostan's palatial home high in the Hollywood Hills, Mick jumped out of his antique Mercedes and raced through the driving rain to the front door. Stepping inside, he shook the water from his long, flowing black overcoat and out of his thick, wavy hair - even vamps weren't quite fast enough to run between raindrops. Briefly considering the expansive home as he strode through it, he wondered, not for the first time, just how wealthy his friend really was.

Entering Josef's elaborate, high–tech office, he found his best friend and mentor uncharacteristically alone. The billionaire hedge-fund trader was usually surrounded by minions and flunkies, ready to do his bidding, but at this moment, he was the office's only occupant.

Clearly agitated, Kostan was pacing back and forth in front of the floor–to–ceiling windows behind his desk, running his hand through his short, auburn hair. Despite the length of time the vampire had walked the earth, he looked like a 20–something 'master of the universe', exactly the image he wanted to convey.

Josef was more than his best friend; he was also one of the oldest vamps in L.A. and the defacto head of the local vampire community.

Clad in an impeccably tailored Armani suit, the coat slung carelessly over the back of his dark leather desk chair, Kostan paused and glared at Mick as he walked into the office and plopped into one of the handsome matching seats positioned in front of the desk.

"Good morning, Josef." Mick smiled broadly at his friend as the rain pounded on the windows behind him.

"What are YOU so happy about?" Josef snapped at his friend, dropping heavily into his desk chair. "And, **please** get that wet coat off my furniture!"

Mick cocked one eyebrow. "I guess I could ask what you are so **unhappy** about?"

He stood to remove his wet coat, retrieving his phone from the pocket before tossing the offending item on the bar counter in the corner. Glancing down at the display, he noticed a missed call from Beth. _Damn! _He'd set it on silent the previous night so that he could talk to Beth uninterrupted. When things had heated up between them, he'd left it that way – and forgotten about it.

_I'd better wait and call her later._ Josef was clearly in no mood to be interrupted by anything in his universe this morning.

Josef snorted. "It must have been my imagination. I thought my friend, Mick St. John, witnessed the same fiasco that I did last night!"

"Josef, calm down. It wasn't a fiasco! Everything ended up OK."

Almost knocking over his chair in his haste to get up, the older vampire bellowed, "OK? You think that went OK?" He leaned over the expensive ebony–and–glass desk to toss the newspaper he was holding into Mick's lap.

"We'll be lucky if the council doesn't come down on us over this! It was a disaster! Look at those headlines!" Josef loosened his tie as if it were suddenly choking him, and gestured at the newspaper in Mick's hand.

_**Josef may be 400 years old, but for such a powerful vamp, he's the most paranoid guy I know.**_

The first thing that met his eye was the glaring headline "MURDER SUSPECT DISAPPEARS; Officer killed in suspicious wreck".

Shaking his head and running his free hand through his still–damp curls, Mick opened the newspaper. _Maybe I'm wrong – maybe Josef __**can**__ spoil my day._

* * *

Beth Turner made the final approach to her parking structure, silently giving thanks that her hectic mornings commute to the District Attorney's office was almost over. The thick rush hour traffic typical of the downtown Los Angeles area made her miss the relatively easy drive to BuzzWire. Today, sudden showers had made the drive exceptionally bad.

Tiredly, Beth swiped her parking pass which allowed her access to the employee spaces. She'd barely had time to shower and dress – and then she smiled broadly. The time she'd shared with Mick more than made up for the indignity of showing up for work with a ponytail.

She could still feel their final goodbye kiss, the strength and firmness of his lean body pressed against hers in that last hug, before they headed to their respective destinations. Beth gave a quick sigh, both at the warm memory and in preparation for the unpleasant day that lay ahead.

Almost as an afterthought, she took her cell phone from its dash holder and pressed the talk button. First one ring, than two, three…

Mick St. John's voicemail greeting finally engaged.

"_Mick's not answering his phone…that can't be a good sign,"_ Beth mused as she started to speak. "Hey, it's me. I'm about to go in. If I hear anything interesting, I'll call you as soon as I can." She paused for a moment. "Love you, bye." Her mouth twisted up slightly. She was still getting used to saying that to him out loud.

Ending her call, she grabbed her things and exited the car, steeling herself as best she could as she walked towards her office building. The time had come to deal with her firestorm. She couldn't help but wonder how Mick was handling his.

* * *

"Josef, you're over–reacting again!" Mick tried in vain to calm his friend. "This story is headline news because a suspected murderer got away and a cop died, not because a vampire escaped. There is nothing in here that's damaging to us." He tossed the paper back on Kostan's desk.

Josef shook his head. "Yeah, I know - the headline doesn't read 'Vampires Kill in L.A.' But this is way too much publicity for something we were involved in, Mick – **way** too much. It's a very high–profile case now – the kind of case that will invite more scrutiny. Scrutiny I don't have to tell you we don't need! I'll bet you a pint that the authorities are all over this while we're sitting here, arguing about it!"

* * *

"No, we don't know how Monaghan escaped – "

Those were the first words Beth heard as she stepped off the elevator.

"Great, just what I was afraid of!" she groaned as she rounded the corner to her work area. Beth already knew that the morning's emergency was due to the Monaghan case.

Emma Monaghan had been a sports attorney, representing a number of high–profile athletes. She was arrested after it appeared that she had inexplicably killed one of her most famous clients. Inexplicable, that is, unless you knew that Emma was a vampire.

Terrified that she would be imprisoned, Emma had threatened to expose the entire L.A. vamp community unless they helped her. Mick had orchestrated a breakout to get Emma away from humans – but not to rescue her. Threatening to expose the vamp community was high treason – punishable by death.

Emma was executed by the Cleaners, along with her vampire husband, Jackson, who decided he didn't want to live without her and voluntarily shared her fate.

For both Mick and Beth, it had been a difficult experience.

The private investigator felt partially responsible for their deaths, since he was the one who had reported Emma's threats. For her part, Beth had met and talked with both of them and was drawn to Emma's warmth, and the depth of the love the couple had for each other after 150 years together. Learning that they had both been executed was as frightening as it was shocking.

Willing herself back to the present, Beth walked cautiously to her desk to sign on and get her day started. Glancing into her boss's office, she could guess that the day was not going to go well for either of them.

Judging from the sound and pitch of his voice – and confirmed by his pained expression, rolled–up shirt sleeves and pacing – it seemed clear that Assistant District Attorney Ben Talbot was getting reamed by the higher–ups. That undoubtedly meant the full brunt of the resultant scatological matter would be rolling downhill to hit her at any moment.

"Fan meet crap. Crap, say hello to fan," Beth muttered under her breath as she dumped her belongings on her desktop, hoping for at least a few seconds of sanity before…

Talbot made eye contact with her through his door and waved her in.

Grabbing her notepad, Beth hurried into ADA Talbot's office, remaining silent while he continued his call. She listened intently as she took a seat in front of his desk.

"…yes, we're already mobilizing a full investigation. Lieutenant Davis is going to USC Medical Center to interview the surviving officer. We're pulling cell phone LUDs, checking for bank and credit card activity, and monitoring LAX, Amtrak and Greyhound passenger information."

Ben nodded as he listened to the caller, impatiently rolling his hand in the air in a "wrap–it–up–please" gesture. "We're on top of it. The detectives and CSI team did their search of the Monaghan residence earlier this morning. My investigator will follow up there just to make sure nothing was overlooked. Okay... okay, I'll call you back after the press conference with an update."

Talbot abruptly hung up the phone, and turned his full attention to his civilian investigator. He ran his hand through his close–cropped brown hair and blew out a breath to release some of his pent–up tension. He sat down on the corner of his desk facing Beth, his handsome face intent. "Sorry to call you so early, but you understand the seriousness of this situation."

She swallowed as she nodded. _You have no idea!_

_

* * *

_

Mick knew Josef had a temper, as evidenced by the ever–rising body count in the La Brea tar pits, but this screed was shaping up as one for the record books.

"It's probably only a matter of time before all these on–line news wanna–bees pick up this story and run with it. If your girlfriend, Beth," – Josef's lip curled slightly at the name – "were still at BuzzWire, she'd be all over this too!"

"Josef, first of all, you know Beth's not at BuzzWire anymore," Mick responded testily. "Secondly, we went over all this last night. We sent The Cleaners to the Monaghans' house right after they executed them. They cleared out anything vamp–related and they staged it so that it would look like Emma and Jackson fled. The D.A.'s office will end up on a wild goose chase, trying to track them down before they get out of the country."

"If this plan is so perfect, then why don't the papers mention that they've left the country?" Josef growled

"JOSEF, STOP!" Mick shouted, exasperated. "This just happened last night! The papers don't have that information yet! Before I left here last night, I called Logan and Ryder and told them exactly what needed to happen. I put them to work creating a fake electronic trail that will lead any investigators straight to Chile. Hell, with Ryder already in South America, I've even got him planting physical evidence in a hotel there – in Los Angeles, Chile, to be exact. I thought you would appreciate that irony." Mick clearly hoped to lighten the mood.

"I would appreciate not having our security rely on that idiot, Logan!"

"Josef, you're being unfair. Logan may act like an idiot once in a while – "

_**Like when he insisted on being called Lando Calrissian on the Monaghan operation. Thanks, Logan.**_

"OK, OK, most of the time," Mick amended, catching Josef's glare. "But, he knows when he needs to take things seriously. And, believe me, he gets that this is one of those times. He's come through for Beth and me on investigations when we've needed him. He and Ryder will come through for us on this one."

"Speaking of Beth," Josef almost snarled her name, leaning over the desk again at Mick to emphasize his point, "if you really wanted me to relax, you would have come back here last night – like you said you would – instead of disappearing…"

Pausing suddenly, the elder vampire sniffed the air, breaking into a huge grin. "Oh, so **that's** it!" he exclaimed, snickering.

"**What's** it?" Mick shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I'm getting a whiff of..." here, Josef paused dramatically, twirling his hand beneath his nose as if smelling a particularly aromatic perfume, "…Eau de Beth." A wicked grin crossed his boyish features. "Did you FINALLY tap that?"

_**Oh, man! Clearly just showering this morning wasn't enough to put Josef off the scent of my, umm, activities with Beth.**_

"NO – Josef!" Mick frowned, irritated by Kostan's choice of words. "I did not 'tap that' as you so delicately put it. I told Beth that I love her, and she… and we…" At a loss for words, he floundered.

"Finally did something about it," Josef finished for him with uncharacteristic gentleness, sinking down into his chair, his mood changing abruptly. "I'm happy for you, Mick. I'm happy for both of you – I really am. You deserve it." Josef's usual cynical attitude was completely missing from these statements.

Mick was touched by his friend's sincerity.

_**I forget that Josef had also once loved a human just as much as I love Beth. Hearing about Beth and me had to bring back those memories. Unfortunately, Josef's love affair with a human hadn't turned out well…**_

After falling in love in New York during the 1950s, 21–year–old Sarah Whitley had insisted that Josef 'turn' her so that they could be together forever. Josef was so in love that he had set aside his reservations and tried to comply with her wishes. Unfortunately, something had gone wrong and she had never re–awakened – yet she never aged. Josef had described it to Mick and Beth as being 'caught in–between'.

Ever since that time, he had arranged for her care in New York. As he told them, he couldn't bring himself to let her go, always holding out hope that one day she might awaken. He had suffered from guilt and loneliness over Sarah ever since, never again attempting to 'turn' a human woman.

"I wasn't sure you had it in you," Josef couldn't resist adding, quickly regaining his composure, and with it, his usual sarcasm. "I get that you were distracted last night – that's fine, everyone needs a hobby, but you need to save your 'hobby' for your spare time."

Mick refused to back down, knowing he was provoking Josef, but not caring." Look, Josef, I'm sorry if your feelings were hurt that I didn't keep our 'date', but everything was taken care of before I left!"

"You sure about that, **Mick**?" Josef asked in a deadly quiet voice, emphasizing his friend's name.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure about that, **Josef**." Mick responded, leaning forward and deliberately placing the same emphasis on Kostan's name. "You know how good The Cleaners are at their job. How many times have they taken care of scenes that could potentially implicate vamps? How many situations have they cleaned up just for you? Hundreds? Logan and Ryder will come through for us too. You're worrying needlessly."

"There is no such thing as needless worrying when you're a vamp, Mick. I think all the time you spend with humans has made you oblivious to the danger they represent to us."

_**Oh–oh, here comes the paranoia again...**_

"I know you think I'm paranoid," Josef unknowingly echoed Mick's thoughts. "But, I've seen so much more than you. I know what humans can do to us when we show up on their radar."

_**For the remainder of Chapter 2, What A Difference A Day Makes, (and there IS a lot more), along with associated embeds of pictures and music that fanfic is not able to accommodate, please go to: **_**capeandsaber(.com)/fiction **


	5. Chapter 3, The Devil's In The Details

**Chapter 3**

**The Devil's In The Details**

_Josef is worried that our secret is in danger of being exposed. His paranoia has hit an all-time high. I've tried to convince him that everything has been taken care of at the Monaghan house, that our secret is safe, but..._

_I get Josef's concerns. He has seen a lot over the past 400 years._

_After his 15 minutes of fame as a pirate..."think Johnny Depp"...he witnessed and survived the slaughter of thousands of vampires in Spain – memories that don't just disappear over the years. Me, I'm only 85, a mere baby. I haven't lived through anything like that. And, I have something he doesn't - I have Beth. I trust her with my life. It's a good thing she works for ADA Talbot - although, there's something about him I just don't trust._

_Wow, now who's paranoid?_

_Speaking of Beth, she called my cell while I was meeting with Josef – and the news wasn't good. Not good at all._

_Just as he seemed to have calmed down a little, I had to tell Josef that the Cleaners have overlooked something._

_Josef's paranoia is peaking again…"Go do your job, Mick"_

_INTRO: "The Mission" by 30 Seconds to Mars_

Mick St. John floored the accelerator of his Mercedes convertible, desperately trying to take advantage of the small gap in the midday Los Angeles traffic. As his car hydroplaned slightly, he cursed the unusual storm that had dumped torrents of rain on the road off and on all day. Easing up on the gas slightly, he shot through the narrow opening, drawing irate shouts from his fellow drivers, and a cacophony of horns. Mick winced at the close call – his car didn't have the recuperative powers accorded vampires.

His mind raced as he tried to process what Beth had said in their too–brief conversation. She had sounded panicked on the phone – and panic was definitely NOT her style!

_Beth said The Cleaner had missed something. I've never known her to miss ANYTHING. I hope Beth's mistaken._

His eyesight suddenly blurred. Pushing up his sunglasses, he rubbed tiredly at his eyes; the lack of freezer time was starting to catch up with him. He shook his head to clear it, frustrated with his apparent weakness. This was no time to be acting like the 'delicate flower' Beth had once teasingly called him.

Adjusting his sunglasses and stomping on the accelerator again, Mick went roaring down the highway toward the Monaghan house – and Beth.

* * *

At that moment, Beth Turner was pacing up and down in front of her car, oblivious to the fine mist still falling from the pale gray sky. The bad feeling she'd been harboring all morning now had a focus. How could these mysterious 'Cleaners' have missed something out in plain sight like this? She remembered that Mick had once said that 'The Cleaner is very good at what she does.'

Beth shook her head, fuming. _Maybe it's just me, but this certainly doesn't look like a job done by someone who was 'very good at what she does'!_"

Her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. She had to smile to herself as the display popped up her favorite picture of Mick. Relieved, she thumbed the phone to connect the call. "Mick! How close are you?"

"Nice to hear your voice too, Beth!" His tone was sarcastic – Beth had a tendency to plunge right into a conversation, completely skipping over any pleasantries. "I've parked on a back street a couple of blocks away – just in case."

"Just in case of what?"

"The way this day has gone so far, it could be pretty much anything!"

She had a hard time disagreeing with that. By the time she disconnected the phone and put it back in her purse, Mick was by her side.

"Wow that was fast! I forget all the cool tricks you have!" Looking into his clear, direct gaze, she could feel her insides knotting up. It already felt like an eternity since they had slept together, and she had to resist the urge to throw herself into his arms.

He felt no need for such self control. "Before we discuss this emergency..." he began, and grabbed her for a quick, passionate kiss, his eyes darkening with feeling. Reluctantly ending the kiss, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

"God, I've missed you today," he whispered huskily.

Beth put her arms around his neck and hugged him back. "Me too. It seems like it's been days since we've seen each other." The contact made her realize that he felt uncharacteristically warm. Slowly breaking their embrace so that she could get a good look at him for the first time, Beth took in his pale, haggard appearance. His eyes were shadowed, with deep circles under them and his lips were chapped.

"Mick, you don't look good. What's wrong?" She laid her hand on his cheek. "You feel warm!" From past experience with the strange physiology of vampires, she knew this wasn't good.

"I'm fine." Mick brushed off her concern. "I just need some freezer time."

"When – I mean, how soon?" Beth prodded.

"Yesterday would be good," he replied sarcastically. "But, since time travel is not one of my special abilities, I'll settle for as soon as possible."

"OK." Beth mentally regrouped. "Let's get this taken care of then, so you can get out of here. We need to get inside so I can show you what I found. I hope you'll tell me I'm over–reacting, but I'm really worried."

The two lovers faced the Monaghan residence, the gloomy light giving it a faintly threatening appearance.

Mick sighed tiredly as he dropped the duffel bag he had brought. "I don't suppose you have a key?" He looked at Beth hopefully.

"No, I don't think Talbot trusts me. Everyone seems to have a key but me!" Beth shrugged, discouraged. Brightening, she added hopefully, "But, you can do your 'sexy vampire jumping thing', right?"

_The last thing I feel like doing right now is any 'sexy vampire jumping'._

Running his hands through his wavy hair, he flashed a brief smile at Beth, "OK, 'sexy vampire jumping thing' it is."

Handing her the duffel, he looked around carefully to make sure they were not being watched, then flexed his knees and jumped straight up into the misty air, long coat flapping in the breeze he created. Landing on the balcony above, he stumbled slightly, realizing that he was weaker than he thought. He really did need to get some freezer time - and blood - soon.

Hurrying now, he opened the French doors and entered the room inside, stopping dead in his tracks to take in the pictures and mementos scattered around what had obviously been a shared room for Emma and Jackson Monaghan.

Since they slept in a double–wide freezer together, they would have had no need for a master bedroom, but this room must have been a personal sanctuary for them. A quick look around assured him that what he was seeing were personal souvenirs of vacations and times together. None appeared old enough or unusual enough to arouse any interest or suspicion.

Mick was hit again with the weight of knowing that his 'testimony' about Emma's threat to expose the vampire community had led to her execution. He reminded himself that Emma was a brilliant lawyer and had known what she was doing when she made those threats - and Jackson had shared her fate at his own request. Still, he couldn't help but feel sadness and remorse for how things had played out. He shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts, knowing there could have been no other choice, and headed for the door.

Bounding down the long, elaborate staircase, he had to pause briefly, putting out his hand to touch the wall to keep himself from falling down, as another wave of dizziness swept over him.

_OK, seriously? No more nights like last night for a while!_

After the dizziness passed, he continued down the stairs to the foyer, opening the massive front door for Beth, who slipped inside with a relieved look. Studying his face worriedly, she grabbed his hand and guided him to the study with her, still carrying the duffel he had left in her care.

"Remember when we talked to Jackson in this room? I was looking at their collection of marriage certificates and noticing how there was a new one every 20 years or so – with a new set of names." Reaching the study and turning to face the wall, she made a sweeping gesture with her arm toward the incriminating wall of frames in front of them. "**These **certificates, Mick! They are all still here – right out in plain sight for someone like Talbot to find. Someone who doesn't like unanswered questions."

Mick cursed softly under his breath.

_Beth was right. This IS bad!_

"What should we do, Mick?"

"I don't think we need to worry about the average cop noticing them – hidden in plain sight is sometimes the best thing to do. But, I agree with you – we need to get them out of here before someone like Talbot comes in for another look - **he** might not miss them. Let's bag them up and getout of here," He abruptly bent over to brace his hands against his knees as his strength suddenly left him.

Beth looked at him, her eyes serious. "How can I help you, Mick?" Her concern was mounting with each passing moment.

"Let's just get this stuff out of here." He straightened, staggering slightly.

Immediately, Beth set to the task at hand, dropping the duffel on the ground and dragging a chair over to the wall to reach the certificates mounted higher than she could reach. One by one, she carefully placed each into the large bag - the last thing they needed was broken glass scattered around the room.

While Beth dealt with the collection of marriage certificates, Mick prowled the room, using both his heightened vampire senses and his finely honed detective skills to look for any additional incriminating evidence.

Finding nothing, he dragged his phone out of his coat pocket and punched in Josef Kostan's number to give him an update. No doubt, Josef was ready to rip someone's head off by now – and he didn't want to be responsible for any more deaths today!

* * *

Somehow, Ben Talbot had survived the morning...barely. The District Attorney's press conference had gone smoothly enough - considering that a first degree murder suspect managed to escape on his watch.

To his chagrin – and occasional regret – the reality of the job didn't match what he had envisioned when he'd lobbied for this position. Today, for example, the young assistant district attorney had spent the day fielding calls from the press, officers, his boss, damned near every city official, and several others who were all either angered by, or interested in, the Monaghan situation.

As he glanced up at the clock, however, Talbot realized that there was indeed at least one person left in Los Angeles he hadn't heard from. The ADA picked up his phone to dial Beth Turner's cell, but the new incoming call light beckoned for his immediate attention. "Talbot," he answered tersely.

"Davis here." Lieutenant Carl was equally brief. "I'm on my way back to the hospital. Is Beth with you? I can't reach her on her cell and I wanted to have her check on something for me."

Confusion crossed the ADA's features, as if he'd somehow missed part of a prior conversation. "What do you mean? Isn't she still with you?"

"I... she's not back yet?"

Ben noted with concern the surprise in the detective's voice. "No. She hasn't called me either – and she was supposed to report in to me as soon as she finished going over the house."

"That's strange. I left the Monaghan house just under an hour ago, give or take. Last I saw her, she was sitting in her car making a call. I thought it was to you."

"No. She didn't call **me**," Ben replied tightly, almost accusingly. "Did she say anything - **do **anything - while you were with her?"

"You know…there **was** something else." Carl thought back to Beth Turner's actions at the Monaghan home. "The last room we looked in at the house was the study. I went outside to get some air, but I was watching her through the window. Beth started acting strange in there all of a sudden – like she'd seen something. Fixated, if you ask me – I startled her when I came back in. She said she was just tired, lack of sleep..."

He paused. "I've been around Beth off and on for a while now…something's up."

Talbot's jaw clenched tightly as he mulled over what Davis had said. If he was accurate – and Carl was nothing if not that – then he had a good idea of what was happening. Or at least, who was involved. "Carl... gotta go. Thanks for calling. Give the officer my regards."

Talbot hung up, not waiting to hear anymore from Carl Davis. Grabbing his jacket, he exited the office, heading toward one of the administrative assistants on the floor. "Ms. Sommers, please forward all calls to my voice mail, except for the DA – if he calls, put him straight through to my cell."

"But... Mr. Talbot... where are you – ", the young brunette started to inquire, her puzzled expression clearly visible behind her glasses.

All she got was silence, as ADA Talbot hurried through the floor's main entrance and rounded the corner, finally disappearing from sight.

* * *

Josef Kostan paused in his pacing to grab the ringing cell phone off his desk. Seeing Mick St. John's ID come up on the screen, Kostan muttered, "It's about friggin' time" under his breath and activated the call.

"What?" he demanded of his best friend and confidante.

"Josef, it's OK!"

"It'd better be, my friend, because this has **not** been a great morning!" Kostan growled. "Logan still hasn't located Ryder – did you know there was a massive earthquake in Chile overnight?"

Startled, Mick dropped heavily into a chair across the room from Beth. _What next?_

"No, Josef, I've been kinda busy here. But, given the way this day's been going, I'm not the least bit surprised!" Quickly, he filled the 400-year-old vampire in on what Beth had found, and the steps they were taking to fix the situation.

"Without Beth, this could have been very dangerous for the vampire community," Mick pointed out to Josef. His mentor was often disparaging of human relationships, and, while Kostan had encouraged him to take the plunge and start a relationship with Beth, he also cautioned him about disclosing too much to her. Mick couldn't resist the opportunity to reinforce her value to his kind, especially to Josef.

"OK, OK, I get it. Remind me to thank her. As a matter of fact, I'll send her a little something from the latest Stella McCartney collection. Paul and I go way back – I like to throw his kid some business whenever I can."

"Wait, Josef. You know Paul McCartney?" _That's news to me!_

"Mick, who do you think introduced Paul to John? You have me to thank for 'My Life'," Josef teased, referring to St. John's favorite Beatles tune. "OK, Stella it is. Maybe Beth can replace some of those tacky 'public servant' clothes she wears," he added. Josef loved any opportunity to needle Mick about his human girlfriend.

"I'll be sure to mention that to her sometime when I have a death wish, Josef." He didn't want to think of the revenge Beth would exact if she heard a comment like that from him...

_I can imagine her response – and the picture isn't pretty. It involves blood, stakes, and screaming – all on Josef's part!_

Josef brought him back to the present, snapping, "OK, you and our new best friend, Beth, get everything cleaned up there – and get some freezer time. I want you both here for a meeting tonight at ten."

"You want Beth there too?" Mick was incredulous. "Why, Josef?"

"Ten o'clock, Mick. Be there. And bring that evidence with you." Josef said, breaking the connection. He turned to the vampires who had been waiting uncertainly in his office while he finished his conversation. "I want **everyone** here at ten tonight," he emphasized, "and that includes The Cleaner!"

St. John stared at the phone in his hand, as if contemplation of the polished screen could somehow help him decipher Josef Kostan's intentions. Sighing, he shoved it in his coat pocket and started over to where Beth was just climbing down from rescuing the last of the marriage licenses from the wall.

His eyes fell on the wedding photo of Jackson and Emma that Beth had pointed out that time on their last visit there. He closed his eyes, lost in the terrible vision of the couple going up in flames together, executed at the hands of The Cleaner. The vampire didn't notice Beth until she laid her hand on his sleeve.

"Mick, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I was just thinking about Emma and Jackson..." his voice trailed off as he looked down at the wedding photo again.

Knowing how Mick tormented himself over his decision to disclose Emma's threats, Beth was firm. "It wasn't your fault. You told me yourself – there have to be rules for you to survive. Emma knew that. I didn't understand at first, but I'm beginning to. It **wasn't **your fault." She was more forceful this time. "Look, we need to get out of here, Mick."

Mick nodded his assent, picking up the now–heavy duffel. Glancing at the bare wall, he frowned. "We can't leave it like that, Beth, with all those nails and nail holes showing – there may as well be a neon sign that says 'Evidence Removed'. We've got to figure something out."

Her eyes lit on the tall, antique secretary next to the spot on the wall that had, until just a few moments ago, held a collection of incriminating marriage certificates. The exquisite piece of furniture would easily hide the wall space where the memorabilia had hung.

"Mick, do you feel well enough to move that cabinet over in front of that section of wall?" She gestured at the out–sized piece of furniture.

"I'm not that far gone!" Mick snorted, dropping the bag and walking over to shove the secretary into place, concealing the bare wall space where the certificates had been displayed. Turning back to Beth, he started to form a sarcastic comeback, but suddenly staggered and dropped limply to the ground.

"Mick!" Beth shouted, jumping to his side. "Mick!" For an anxious moment, the P.I. didn't respond. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at Beth blankly, his eyes ice-blue, fangs showing. "Mick!" Beth cried again, bending over him.

For a split second, all St. John could see was the throbbing carotid artery in front of him. Forgetting where he was and who he was with, he began to raise his head, the pulsing now an almost irresistible call to feed.

"Mick, you have to get up!" Beth was frantic now, unaware of his struggle to control his vampire instincts. The words brought him back to his senses. Horrified, he retracted his fangs, and leaning heavily on Beth, climbed to his feet.

She guided him over to an armchair, helping him to sit down, and then knelt down in front of him so that she could get a good look at his face. His color was grey and, frighteningly, his eyes were beginning to take on a sickly yellow cast. She had seen that look before...

Beth's phone rang suddenly, freezing both of them. "Oh, God, it's Talbot!" Beth groaned, looking at the display.

"Let it go to voicemail," St. John gasped, struggling to muster the strength to get out of the Monaghan mansion with their stolen evidence. Beth wasn't sure that was the wisest course, but followed his direction as she looked searchingly into his face, trying to assess his condition.

* * *

"Beth, this is Ben. Please call me as soon as you get this message."

Talbot disconnected in a huff. He prided himself upon his ability to remain calm and unflappable, regardless of the circumstances. This situation with Beth Turner, however, was unnerving him more than he found acceptable. Logically, there could be any number of reasons why she wasn't reachable – a problem with a cell tower, dead battery... or even something wrong with her.

What was making him increasingly angry was that none of these weighed on his mind as heavily as the one possibility that trumped all others – that a certain private investigator had once again violated the sanctity of his investigation.

Aside from his personal dislike of the man, Talbot had several reasons for his welling anger towards Mick St. John. As he'd reminded both the P.I. and his civilian investigator, crime scenes were sacrosanct – evidence integrity, chain of custody and all related issues must be above reproach. Private investigators, such as St. John, were not officers of the court and therefore had to be properly approved and supervised to prevent legal complications.

Even if Beth didn't understand the seriousness of this transgression, St. John should. Talbot grimly contemplated the possible negative outcomes in a worst case scenario. All evidence found at the Monaghan residence subsequent to the first official search could be deemed inadmissible. Without question, Ms. Turner would, at the very least, be disciplined, and possibly terminated.

And St. John... as a licensed private investigator, willfully trespassing on a crime scene could carry a very steep penalty, up to and including incarceration. Of course, should it come to that, Talbot would perform his due diligence to ensure that he would serve the maximum possible sentence under the law.

Ben considered attempting to call Beth one more time and just as quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn't far from the house now. He'd get his answers soon enough.

_**'s format is, unfortunately, unable to accommodate music/video links; therefore, the balance of Chapter 3, The Devil's In the Details**__**, is posted at the following link:**_

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_**We hope you will be able to visit us there and enjoy the remainder of the chapter – there's a LOT going on! Please e-mail me if you have difficulty finding the story on Capeandsaber. As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated.**_


	6. Chapter 4, Interlude

**_I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter segment – real life has a way of intruding on our Moonlight life sometimes…we hope you enjoy this. _**

**_Feedback, either here or on Cape and Saber is always appreciated.  
_**

**_Chapter 4_**

**_Interlude_**

Intro: "Don't Wake Me" by Love and Theft

Sunlight is not a friend to human or vampire, not after a night of indulgence on the level that Mick and Beth had shared. Alcohol wasn't the issue, though wine had flowed freely, but rather the frequent, prolonged activities of the previous evening. Not that anyone was complaining - quite the contrary. After all that had recently happened to them, they felt that they'd earned it.

Friday night, after an admittedly frightening start, had a very late and satisfying conclusion. Teasing, tasting, touching, caressing... every point of pleasure had been explored with a fervency neither had previously known. Finally, sated and spent, the lovers slept in their separate accommodations in the stylish penthouse apartment - Mick in his freezer, Beth on the couch.

Beth was so exhausted that she slept much later than normal, waking at 10:30 on Saturday morning to the annoying rays of light that somehow managed to force their way through the almost closed blinds. Her irritation was amplified by the sound of persistent knocking on the reinforced front door.

Throwing back the soft brown cashmere throw covering her, Beth groggily struggled into her jeans, cursing as she tripped over one of the armchairs.

"_This had better be good!_" she thought grumpily as she yanked open the front door - and immediately regretted the action. "_What am I __**thinking**_?" she berated herself. She and Mick, unfortunately, did not live in a world where one could open the front door without checking first to see who was there. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to that.

Fortunately for Beth, the worst consequence of her momentary lapse was having the nattily-dressed delivery man see her with a bad case of 'bed head'. Bowing slightly and smiling, the young man presented her with a small, beautifully wrapped box. "This is for you, Miss Turner, from Mr. Kostan. He requests that you open it immediately."

As he turned and walked away, Beth called out, "Wait! How do you know who I am?" The delivery man simply waved and continued on his way to the elevators.

Running her free hand absentmindedly through her tousled hair as she elbowed the front door shut, Beth inspected the package from Josef. What an enigma he was! Settling back down on the soft couch, she ripped the package open. The box contained a cell phone with a single button on the front, along with a beautifully embossed card. The front of the card contained the inscription, "Call me after you read this - Josef".

Her curiosity thoroughly aroused, Beth opened the card; her mouth dropped open as she scanned the details of an extremely large credit - in her name - at Stella McCartney's new store in L.A. She immediately dove for the phone and hit the single button.

"Well, good morning, Beth!" Josef's voice betrayed his smile. "I see you have my package."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"Just a lucky guess, I suppose - where else **would** you be? Unless Mick is disappointing you, of course. **Is** he disappointing you, Beth?"

"Josef, I know you'd like details, but I will leave that discussion to Mick." Beth smiled in spite of herself. Josef Kostan's curiosity and voyeuristic tendencies were, oddly enough, part of his charm.

"Now what is this extremely generous gift for? Is my wardrobe so bad that you feel the need to give me a makeover?"

"Believe it or not, I have no ulterior motive here - despite the fact that I would love to have you on my arm in designer clothes. This is simply me expressing my thanks in some…" Josef paused for effect "…useful way. Besides, I owe Paul a few favors and he loves nothing more than to have me mix business and pleasure."

Beth unconsciously echoed Mick's earlier reaction to Josef's disclosure. "You know Paul **McCartney**? **The **Paul McCartney?"

Josef snickered. "I believe he's more properly referred to as **Sir** Paul McCartney. It's a long story, Beth, and you have shopping to do. I expect this to be used while the spring collection is still in her store." With that, Kostan hung up.

Beth stared at the now-useless phone in her hand, waging a brief skirmish with herself over whether to accept the gift. Knowing Josef Kostan better now than she had even a week ago, she realized that he would not only push her to accept it, but would be hurt if she didn't.

_Why not_? Realizing she had not seen any of her 'human' friends in some time, she quickly called several former BuzzWire colleagues to set up a late lunch. She couldn't help but reflect on how bizarre her life had become. She not only had work and non-work categories for friends and acquaintances, she now also had 'human' and 'non-human' segments as well. How much crazier could her life get!

She smiled sadly as she recalled a statement made by her late boyfriend, Josh Lindsay, shortly after she had met Mick. "Since you've met that guy, screwed up is starting to seem normal." How right he had been. She sighed and wiped away a sudden, unbidden tear. No! Not today. This was not a day for tears.

"**I **have something to celebrate," she told herself, thinking of the man asleep upstairs.

With that thought, she dressed hurriedly, writing a note to Mick to let him know she would be through with her luncheon by late afternoon, and instructing him to call her when he awoke. Knowing that he would worry about her, she included details on where she would be shopping and eating. She toyed with the idea of leaving the note on his glass-topped freezer, but realized that, with his heightened vampire senses, he would likely wake up if she did so. And, he definitely needed sleep – and freezer time – after their day yesterday.

Settling for leaving it taped to the sliding door hiding his blood supply, she let herself out, smiling at the thought of the day ahead of her.

A quick trip to her apartment for a shower and change of clothes prepared her for her expedition. She appraised herself critically before heading out, standing in front of her full-length mirror, hands on hips. She had tamed her hair and applied her makeup with a careful hand, wanting to look her best for her adventure in the world of designer clothes. Choosing an outfit to wear, however, had been a challenge, to say the least. Nothing she owned came close to being 'trendy' or particularly stylish. She admitted to herself that Josef had certainly been on target when deciding on a 'useful' gift for her.

Resigning herself to feeling like she was in Julia Roberts' 'Pretty Woman' role when it came to shopping at high-end stores, she grabbed her keys and headed out to McCartney's store on Beverly Boulevard.

Fortunately, Marissa had been able to free up her day to provide moral support and encouragement, so Beth did not feel totally alone as she stepped into the luxurious store with her friend. The opulent surroundings were a new experience for both of them, and they looked around uncomfortably as they were approached by a sales person. She kindly offered them Perrier and escorted them to a modern leather and chrome couch.

"How can we help you?" The slim, stylish young woman immediately made Beth feel frumpy by comparison.

Marissa, who had been ogling the décor, whipped her head around as she heard her friend say, "I have an account here, established by Josef Kostan. My name is Beth Turner." The saleswoman perked up immediately. "Yes, we've been expecting you, Miss Turner. Let me get the manager."

"Josef Kostan?" Marissa hissed, trying to get her friend's attention. "Beth. Psst! **Beth**! Are you having an affair with **Josef Kostan**?"

Beth had to admit, it was fun to see her friend so flustered. "No, Marissa. But we _**are**_ friends and I did Josef a favor. He just has a – creative – way of showing his thanks."

"Beth, this is so unlike you, I cannot even wrap my brain around it," her friend blurted. "How did I not know that you were friends with Josef Kostan? He's one of the richest men in America!"

"Well, it's not like we went to high school together or anything." Beth smiled. "We just met each other in the past few months through a…" she paused, searching for the right words,

"…a mutual friend."

She started to say more, but at that moment, the store manager came up and introduced herself to both of them. "Mr. Kostan is a valued friend of Stella and her father." The tall young woman flashed a brilliant, if artificial, smile. With her height, long mane of shining red hair, and model's physique, she looked like she had just stepped out of the pages of _Vogue_. She sounded sincere, however, as she sat down beside Beth. "I want to be sure we take good care of you here. We'll start with Stella's spring collection. Can we get you anything?"

Marissa, her dark eyes flashing, said to no one in particular "Why do I feel like I'm having a 'Pretty Woman' moment? Should I order pizza?"

"You too?" Beth chimed in.

At that, the room broke into laughter and Beth settled in to enjoy herself.

_**For the remainder of Chapter4, Interlude, along with associated embeds of pictures and music that the fanfic system is not able to accommodate, please go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber(.com) ?type=categories&catid=1  
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**_Please note that this is not a live link due to the necessity to put .com in (). We hope you'll poke around while you are at Cape & Saber. Stop by the chat room and we'll get acquainted!_**


	7. Chapter 5, Without You

_Thanks to everyone who has submitted reviews of our story so far. This chapter will start to introduce you to new characters and a new storyline, now that we have tied up most of the loose ends from the series. We continue to do our best to be true to the characters as they were defined by the wonderful actors and writers of Moonlight, while adding some OCs to the mix. One note: while you will begin to hear of a sinister organization in this chapter, it is not known by the name Legion._

_As always, your feedback and comments are greatly appreciated. We hope you'll drop by capeandsaber to read the entire chapter and get acquainted._

**Chapter 5**

**Without You**

Intro song: Here Without You by Three Doors Down

What the fu...?"

Ryder England's stunned utterance went unheard over the din of destruction. On high alert, he cautiously stepped into the hornet's nest that normally passed for Josef Kostan's home.

England had finally returned to Los Angeles after the trip from hell back from Chile. He had been forced to charter a jet to escape the chaos that a major earthquake had caused. Roads were closed and most airports had been damaged heavily. Mechanical and logistics problems, which included bribes to certain officials, had forced unscheduled – and lengthy – layovers, costing additional time and money.

Despite assurances to the contrary, Ryder was still concerned that none of this had gone over well with his employer, Josef Kostan, who would be picking up the bill. Hence, his first stop upon landing at 4:00 AM, was Kostan's home, in order to apologize for the misadventure in person.

The lanky vampire stepped cautiously through the front door and immediately heard shouting coming from the direction of Josef's living room. He winced – this was **not **a good sign! Taking a deep breath and preparing himself to take the brunt of Josef's wrath, he walked into the room. The scene that greeted him was not what he had expected.

The floor was littered with the carcasses of bottles that had once contained various wines and spirits. One ruined wall of the room was streaked with their contents. Ryder made his way cautiously through the debris toward his employer, who was, at that moment, sinking into an armchair on the far side of the room, his eyes full of tears. He had never seen the elder vampire like this and it scared him. "Josef! What happened?"

Kostan glared at him and shouted, "Go away, Ryder. Leave me the hell alone!"

England turned to leave, confused. It was then that he spotted the female stranger sitting on the couch, as far away from Josef as possible. One sniff identified her as a vampire - and an old one at that, judging by the odor of decay, detectable only to other vampires. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing in here?"

Victoria Silver languidly got up and approached Ryder, who watched her, mouth agape. "There's no need to worry about me, although I'm sure Mr. Kostan appreciates your concern. At least, he **will**, when he is more himself. I'm an old friend, Victoria Silver." She extended her hand to the surprised vampire as she spoke.

"Ry– Ryder England." he stammered. "What's happened here?" He gestured at the pool of bourbon, fine cognac and rare wines surrounding the remains of expensive decanters.

"Josef got some bad news a short time ago, I'm afraid." Victoria hesitated. "He's…processing."

"Processing? It looks more like he's a one–man wrecking ball!" He had been caught too off–guard by the situation to ask the beautiful woman what she was doing in Josef's home at this hour. "Has anyone called Mick?"

"Mick? Who's Mick?" Victoria responded, providing Ryder with an answer to his question.

"He's Josef's best friend. If something bad has happened, he should be here. I'll go call him." He practically ran from the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went. Realizing the odd hour of the call would put Mick on alert, Ryder started talking immediately. "Mick, Ryder. Look, I'm at Josef's. You'd…. you'd better get over here. Josef's losing it!"

* * *

"Mick?"

Beth stirred sleepily on the couch in Mick's living room where she had again spent the night. She was awakened by sounds overhead and sat up to the sight of Mick jumping down the stairs, floating past all of them.

"Mick, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you up, Beth," Mick hurried past her to grab a pitcher of blood out of his hidden refrigerator and pour himself a glass. Beth purposefully looked away as Mick gulped down the thick red liquid. She wasn't awake enough to handle that image this early in the morning.

"What time is it?" She groggily rubbed at her face - hadn't she just gone to sleep?

"It's early." Mick absentmindedly sat his now–empty glass down on the counter, rinsing his mouth with water before he came over to sit down on the couch beside her. He leaned over and enveloped her in a bear hug, kissing her neck as he did so, a move that caused Beth to shiver with pleasure. Would she ever become accustomed to the innate sexiness of this man? Somehow she doubted it.

"I'm sorry, Beth. I've got to go. I don't know when I'll be back."

"What happened?"

She pulled herself upright on the sofa.

"Ryder called. Josef's in trouble… and that's all I know," he added, holding up his fingers to her lips as she opened her mouth to ask more. Normally, he found her curiosity adorable, even desirable. Once started, however, Beth was a non–stop question machine, and he had to get going.

Ever the quick study, she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, taking another tact. "When did Ryder get back?" She fixed on something safe as Mick clearly didn't want to talk about Josef.

"Sometime last night I guess. Look, Beth, I know you have a lot of questions – and, so do I. I just don't have any answers yet. All I know is that Ryder just called me and told me to get over to Josef's right away. He said Josef was '…losing it', whatever the hell **that** means." Mick sighed in exasperation over his inability to get any useful information from Ryder England. "Then he hung up."

"Do you…" she started, swinging her legs out from under her cover and putting her feet on the floor.

Mick anticipated her reaction and cut her off. He placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him slightly so that her blue eyes met his intense hazel stare. He spoke in a carefully metered tone which indicated there was no room for further discussion. "No, Beth. I have no idea what's going on. You stay here, get some more sleep. I'll call you as soon as I can." Mick pulled her to him for one lingering kiss, then was out the door with preternatural speed before she could say anything else.

She sighed. It wasn't fair! How would she ever win an argument with Mick if he could disappear like that? Beth knew that there would be no more sleep for her this morning, but she was reluctant to admit defeat. She lay back down on the soft, butterscotch–colored leather. _What next?_

Pulling the throw back up, she closed her eyes again.

* * *

_What now?_

Mick St. John chewed the inside of his cheek in worry as he expertly maneuvered his Mercedes convertible through the pre–dawn streets. At least there was little traffic to contend with at this hour.

While he drove, Mick let his mind roam back over the events of the past weekend. It had been a peaceful oasis in his hectic life and, for the first time since he could remember, he felt he had a chance at happiness. The thought made him smile as he floored the accelerator and roared up into the hills overlooking Los Angeles.

Arriving at Josef's house, he jumped out of the car before it had even rolled to a complete stop, running inside at top speed. Ryder met him just inside the door.

"What the hell's going on, Ryder?"

"Mick, I don't **know**." Ryder's friendly, open face wore a concerned look as he filled in the private investigator. "I finally got back from Chile and came right here. When I walked in, Josef was having a fit in the study, breaking bottles, crying…" He trailed off, not sure how much to say to Mick.

"What else, Ryder? What else aren't you telling me?" Mick pressed him, nose–to–nose in a threatening posture.

"I don't **know** much else!" Ryder tried to back away from the irate vampire, who shifted with him, staying in his face. "There's some woman in there with him though – a vamp, an old one. She said her name is Victoria Silver. Do you know her?" At this point, all Ryder England wanted was for someone else to take charge of this mess so that he could go home to his freezer.

"No. No I don't." St. John, concerned, backed off. "Look, hang around here while I check this out. **Stay**, Ryder!" This last was said in a commanding tone, the private investigator pointing a finger at the intimidated vampire, who nodded mutely. Leaving England to his own devices, Mick strode off into Josef's living room, his long coat flowing around him.

Josef Kostan didn't look up or acknowledge Mick's presence as his best friend entered the room, continuing to sit in an armchair, staring out past the wall of glass to the darkness beyond. The first faint hint of dawn created a halo effect on the hillside below.

Mick walked slowly into the room, taking in the debris from the shattered bottles. Shards of glass were still floating in the pool of alcohol that was the aftermath of all the destruction. As his eyes swept the room, he caught the eye of the female vampire Ryder had mentioned. She rose from her place on the designer couch and started toward him.

He raised his hand, gesturing for her to stop. "Do you mind leaving us alone?" His tone of voice suggested that this was not really a question. Who or what she was, and why she was here, he would get to later. Right now, his concern was for his friend, and he didn't want to provoke any further outbursts.

She smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll wait for you in the music room."

_Josef! In all our years together, I've never seen him like this. Josef __never__ lets **anything** bother him this much._

Mick waited until she exited, then walked over to his friend. "Josef," he said softly as he reached his side, slowly squatting down next to the chair to peer into Kostan's face. "What's going on?"

* * *

_**For the remainder of Chapter 5, Without You, along with associated embeds of pictures and music that the fanfic system is not able to accommodate, please go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber(.com) ?type=categories&catid=1**

_**We hope you'll poke around while you're there at Cape & Saber. Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	8. Chapter 6, A New York State of Mind

**Chapter 6**

**A New York State of Mind**

_Intro Song:: "New York" by Sarah Luv_

_(http:/YouTube).com/watch?v=x2OVAspLrX4_

The morning sun found the trio of vampires settled in for the long flight from L.A. to New York City on the plush jet. Even with all the shades down, it was still bright in the cabin as the jet flew above the clouds in the golden morning light and they kept their sunglasses in place to protect sensitive eyes.

Mick reclined his seat, and closed his eyes with a sigh. _It would be a lot more inviting if there were a few freezers included on–board…_ Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he abruptly sat upright. "Crap!"

Both Josef and Victoria looked at him, startled. "What's the problem, Mick?" Josef's face clearly said _what now?_

"Nothing...nothing." He winced as he realized he had spoken aloud. "I just need to call Beth, that's all. I'll do it right now." Given the early hour, Mick had not wanted to disturb her further. Now that he was unexpectedly on his way out of state, there would be hell to pay if he didn't get in touch with her.

As St. John pulled out his phone and hit Beth's number, Josef looked over at Victoria and shrugged. "Human relationships..."

Mick turned away from them to give at least the illusion of privacy as Beth answered her cell phone.

Her tone was guarded as she talked. "Thanks for calling me! What happened?"

"Beth, I'm OK – and so's Josef. But, something's happened to Sarah Whitley... yeah, it's bad. We're on our way to New York now – just took off a few minutes ago." Mick considered giving Beth more information, but decided against it. She was, as Josef had so accurately pinpointed, a "quick study" and didn't need explicit details to grasp the gravity of the situation. Besides, there was still so much he really didn't know...

She was shocked to hear that they were already in the air, but the last thing Mick or Josef needed right now was another human problem. "Oh, that's terrible about Sarah! How's Josef doing?"

"He's all right, I guess – as good as can be expected," Mick glanced over at his friend, who had moved over to take a seat at the far side of the cabin, clearly not interested in engaging in conversation with anyone. He answered the unspoken question he knew was on her mind. "I'm not sure how long we'll be gone. I need to poke around and see if I can find out what happened. I'll let you know as soon as I have a better idea."

"OK, thanks. Is there anything I can do from here?"

"If I think of anything, I'll be in touch."

She exhaled slowly. "Please tell him how sorry I am."

"I will." He added softly, "I love you, Beth."

"Me too," Beth closed her eyes briefly to picture his face as she reluctantly broke the connection.

She opened them to see the eyes of a very curious Ben Talbot staring at her.

* * *

Victoria smiled at Mick, who reluctantly met her gaze as he returned his phone to his coat pocket, removing his sunglasses as he did so. "Don't worry about it, darling. We've all been there."

"Been where?" Mick shrugged out of his coat with quick, irritated movements.

"With a possessive 'freshie' of course!"

The anger flashed so quickly that Mick closed his eyes to gather himself. Her comments were derisive and he would not tolerate Beth being insulted by this woman. "Beth's not..." he started, and then hesitated. Victoria was Josef's friend and counterpart, and also a tribal leader - and he was the lowest ranking vampire in this group. He had to be mindful of political realities. Given the current tragic circumstances and the uncertainty of what awaited them in New York, he may yet need Victoria Silver's help. And did he even want to discuss Beth with her?

He took a deep breath. "Beth **is not **a freshie. She's my..." He paused again. What was Beth, exactly? His girlfriend? That sounded too frivolous. His lover? That sounded too much like a strictly physical relationship. He sighed. How complicated was a relationship when you couldn't even figure out what to call the other person? "She's very important to me. We're... together." This sounded lame, even to him, but it was the best he could come up with.

Victoria smiled, clearly amused. Getting up to walk over, she leaned down to him as she took off her sunglasses, placing one hand on the armrest on either side of him. With her face just inches from his, her blue eyes intent, she whispered, "Well, I'm happy to hear that you are...together. Just remember, though – humans will never be able to fully understand us. Be careful that you don't expect too much from this relationship – or you'll both be hurt."

She moved in to him, causing Mick to push back as far in his seat as he could, uncomfortable with her advances. Vampire elder aside, this should not happen. The situation was bad enough without him having to tolerate Victoria Silver's unwelcome advances. "Victoria... I'd rather you didn't."

Her lips almost touching his, she whispered, "Are you sure?"

Before the startled Mick could respond, she straightened and sauntered over to the bar area to pour a glass of blood, conscious of his eyes following her. "Can I get you anything?" She arched her eyebrows coyly, sky–blue eyes sparkling.

Her estimation of the young vampire was growing exponentially. He was not only gorgeous and a gentleman, but loyal as well - and to a human, at that. This one was going to be a very real and welcomed challenge. _Good! After 300 years, a challenge is __**just**__ what the doctor ordered. Things were getting a little boring... _

St John decided that the way to deal with Victoria Silver was to not let her see that she had any impact on him. "Sure – some blood." He got up and came over to her. "Who knows what we'll find when we get there?"

"Who knows, indeed!" She smiled slyly, openly admiring him in his Henley shirt and well–cut jeans, her eyes lingering on the triangle of skin exposed by his shirt while she poured another glass of Type A blood. Mick took the glass and drained it in two gulps, then gestured for more. When it was poured, he tried to deflect her attention from him. "Thanks. Now, what were you saying in the limo about how you and Josef met?"

"Nice change of topic, Mick," the vampire purred, moving languidly back to her seat. "I can take the hint – for now. So, let's see. Where were we? Oh, yes, the draft riots. Well, as I said, a number of vampires were killed during those riots. Josef always suspected that there was more to them than met the eye.

"Those of us who were left tried to band together for protection, but some of them were... undisciplined, to say the least. They didn't think rules applied to them. Josef and I just sort of gravitated together. We were of like minds when it came to vampire behavior and how to survive. That's why he's still around after 400 years." She glanced toward the corner where Josef still huddled, hiding behind his sunglasses.

"And, you after... how many?" Mick interjected.

"About 300 or so – give or take a few years. And, I will excuse your asking a woman her age this time." Victoria smiled.

"Do you mind my asking how you became a vampire?" He was intrigued in spite of himself.

"Not at all. It's not a secret – at least nothing I keep from my **friends**." Victoria emphasized this last word. "I was turned in 1723, in England. I was actually a prostitute at the time. That's not something I'm particularly proud of, but, you have to understand the times. London, in that era, was built on the sex trade. One out of every five women or so was a prostitute of one sort or another."

"I came there from the country. Naively, I thought that I could make a living there as a cleaning girl. I didn't know about whore houses or madames; they called madames 'bawds' in those days - or sometimes, 'hags of hell', which was probably more accurate. They trapped girls – gave us food, a place to stay. Made us think they were doing it out of the goodness of their heart – until they presented you with a bill for services. Of course, there was no way to pay - and they knew it."

St. John sipped his 'drink' as he sat back down across from Victoria. "So, you were made into an indentured servant – without even knowing it."

"Exactly! But, the madames had a solution – one they offered in place of prison for failure to pay debts. Deflowering rights."

"Excuse me?" Mick frowned, his voice strained.

"Deflowering rights," Victoria lifted her blue eyes to meet his piercing hazel stare. "Just what it sounds like. The madames trapped young girls, and then offered an 'out'. They sold young virgins' 'deflowering rights' to noblemen for a large fee...most of which they kept. Then, they invited them to join their brothel – in exchange for not telling their families what they had done. It was a trap without any exit for girls like me..." she trailed off, then resumed briskly.

"For me, it was a woman named Charlotte Haynes. I was actually lucky in a way. She ran a brothel with liveried servants, manners and etiquette lessons for 'her' girls, and a high class clientele. It could have been much, much worse."

"Hard to imagine that being a 'lucky' arrangement." He looked into his glass with a shake of his head.

"Well, you had to have seen some of the alternatives." Victoria's face bore a trace of a smile. "A vampire was one of my regular clients. He paid for my time, but not for sex – I was his 'freshie' – and, he liked me."

"Then, I got sick, like a lot of girls – too sick to work. Syphilis was an epidemic in London in those days, as you can imagine. The vampire came to see me… and offered to turn me if I wanted it. I jumped at the chance. I mean, how could my existence have been much worse? The idea of being a powerful vampire with eternal life was very seductive. So...he turned me. And, the rest, as they say, is history." She shrugged. "I've never looked back – no regrets."

"What was your name?" His voice was soft, his eyes kind.

"What did you say?" The question startled her.

"Your name. What was your real name?" His eyes remained locked on hers.

She angrily dashed away the sudden tears that unexpectedly welled up in her eyes. "You know," she sniffed, "in all the times I've told this story, no one has ever asked me that before. It was Emily. Emily Warren."

"And the vampire who turned you?" Mick prodded gently.

"Joshua Reynolds – Sir Joshua Reynolds," Her eyes focused on something only she could see. "I cared about him a great deal." With that comment, she seemed to bring herself back to the present. "I think I'm beginning to understand why Josef is so very fond of you! Now – you know my story. I think it's time for yours. All I know from Josef is that it didn't end well."

"That's an understatement!" Mick exhaled with a short, mirthless laugh. "There isn't much to tell – certainly not a story like yours. I married a woman I didn't know was a vampire – and she 'turned' me on our wedding night – without my consent. Period. I guess you could say it didn't end well." Now it was his turn to drop his eyes.

"Coraline DuVall was your wife, right? She's the one who 'turned' you." Mick glanced up, puzzled. "Josef told me that you had been married to her. I didn't know she turned you, though – or that it was against your will. Josef does tend to leave out some details when he tells a story."

"Yes, he does." Mick smiled in spite of himself.

"I know Coraline. You have my condolences – although I can certainly see why she was attracted to you," Victoria smiled her brilliant smile at her companion. "I met her at the same time Josef did – in New York City during the Civil War. She was one of those vamps that I mentioned – undisciplined, no limits. Sounds like not too much has changed." With that, she placed her sunglasses back over her eyes and reclined her seat.

"No. Not much," Mick gloomily swallowed the last of the blood and settled back with a sigh, his memories a morbid companion for the remainder of the flight.

* * *

Beth looked up from her cell phone, meeting Talbot's stare with one of her own. _The best way to handle this is to pretend there is nothing to handle._

"Sorry about interrupting our morning conference, Ben. A bit of a family emergency." She had purposefully not used Mick's name during their brief conversation.

"Everything alright, I hope?"

"It will be, thanks. A very distant…relative…passed away in New York." _I won't go to hell for telling a white lie like that. _She frowned. "Making arrangements long–distance is always challenging. I apologize."

"Beth, I'm no ogre – at least I hope I haven't given you that impression. If you need to leave, I'll certainly understand. I know that everyone has a life outside this office." Talbot wanted to get closer to this enigmatic young woman, but his words always seemed to be misinterpreted by her.

"No, it's fine. But, I do appreciate the offer, Ben. Thank you. I'll get on with my work." She rose and beat a hasty exit from his office as Ben frowned after her.

_Something about this doesn't feel right. But, why would she lie to me about something like this?_ Talbot resolved to keep a closer eye on Beth Turner. There was definitely more there than met the eye.

* * *

It was late afternoon in New York City by the time the chartered jet landed at La Guardia airport. Ryder had done his job well, and a limousine service was waiting for them when they disembarked.

Kostan had been uncharacteristically uncommunicative throughout the trip, keeping to himself during the flight, but when Victoria suggested that they retire to her home – and her freezers – for a few hours, Josef instead insisted on traveling directly to 300 Waverly Place to see the damage for himself.

With the heavy traffic, it took almost an hour for the driver to navigate to the location, still roped off by arson investigators. Victoria stayed in the limo as Josef and Mick got out to take a look at the site. Standing across the street from the charred, still smoking remains of the building that had housed 'his' Sarah, tears streamed down Josef's face, his sad eyes hidden by his sunglasses.

Seeing this, Mick wordlessly put his hand on his friend's shoulder, the two friends standing there united in loss and sorrow. He had tears in his own eyes as he watched his friend struggle with this loss, easily imagining Beth as Sarah, caught in between the human and vampire worlds. Silently, he resolved never to 'give in' and attempt to turn Beth.

After what seemed like hours, Josef sighed and wiped his eyes. Glancing at his watch in the failing light, he realized it had only been a few minutes since he confronted the wreckage that had been Sarah's home. "Let's get out of here," he said to Mick without looking at him.

"I'm with you, Josef." Mick hurried back to the limo with his friend.

* * *

_**For the remainder of Chapter 6, A New York State of Mind, along with associated embeds of pictures and music that the fanfic system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

(http:/capeandsaber).?sid=14&chapter=8

_**We hope you'll poke around while you're there at Cape & Saber.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	9. Chapter 7, Disconnect

**Author's Note: **Chapter 7 of this full-length novel finds Josef Kostan and Mick St. John still in NYC, dealing with the reverberations of recent events. Josef struggles with his feelings, as Mick and Gabrielle "Gabby" Sinclair continue their investigation into the mysterious events transpiring in New York. Several humans now come into play - are they friend or foe? The ending video was created especially for this chapter and will be available, along with the complete chapter at

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Disconnect**

Tuesday morning came quickly. After just a few hours of rest in the freezer upstairs, Mick St. John found himself traversing the same stairs he had so recently climbed, impatient to get to a dawn rendezvous with Eugene Divan, the forensics expert Victoria had arranged to have investigate the scene of the fire. That vampire, who seemed to be everywhere, stopped him before he got to the front door of the condo.

"Mick, I have scheduled a service for Sarah at seven P.M. tonight at Marble Cemetery. It shall just be Josef and me. I thought you would like to know – I'm sure he would appreciate your being there."

"Thank you, Victoria. That is very kind of you. I'll be there. Do you ever sleep, by the way?"

Victoria laughed throatily, looking up admiringly at the tall, sexy vampire. "You know, my motto as a human was always 'I can sleep when I'm dead' because I just wanted to grab all of life that I could. Who knew that the same would hold true when I was undead?"

Mick St. John smiled at the mysterious vampire and headed out the door into the gray early-morning light.

* * *

Arriving at the site of the ruined brownstone, Mick was relieved to see that it was no longer smoldering. Like any vampire, he had a healthy respect for the damage fire could cause. It was, however, occupied by a short, heavy–set man with a friendly face. Seeing Mick pick his way through the rubble, hand raised to shield himself from the first light of day, he hurried over, stripping off latex gloves as he walked.

"You must be Mick St. John," he exclaimed, sticking out his hand to shake Mick's, the early dawn light falling on his balding head . "It's a pleasure to meet you. Let me show you what I've found so far." He led the vampire over to a small tarp he had spread out on one side of what had once been a large, comfortable bedroom for Sarah Whitley, carefully pushing aside the wreckage with his insulated boots as he walked.

"Here's what I've got – but it isn't much." Divan pointed out some charred, twisted metal and a couple of shattered dials and pieces of hardware that he had set out on the tarp. "Remains of oxygen tanks." His grim face betrayed his feelings. "Definitely the cause of all this destruction, in my opinion. I'm still reconstructing the scene, but I don't think I'll find anything to change my mind."

"Anything odd so far, Eugene - beside the presence of so many oxygen tanks?"

His eyes bright with good humor, despite the early hour, Divan responded, "Please. Call me Gene, everybody does – except my grandkids. I'm Papa Gene to them. There was one thing that struck me as odd, Mick - and suspicious. From the position of the shrapnel from the tanks, it appears that the oxygen tanks were all very close to where Victoria told me the bed was located."

"There were six tanks. What possible reason could there be for placing them all around the bed?" The frown deepened on the private investigator's face as he anticipated the answer.

"I've been doing this a long time, Mick – and I can't imagine a scenario in which that would make sense... unless you were trying to set them up to cause an explosion."

"How much spark would be required to set them off? Would a lit cigarette do it?"

"If the tanks were open and bleeding oxygen? A cigarette lighter certainly would, absolutely!" Divan answered with conviction. "The force of the explosion would have been enormous with that many tanks – a very effective bomb. I'm actually surprised, in that case, that there is as much left standing of the building as there is."

Mick shook his head at the thought of someone doing this to a helpless, comatose woman.

_I guess there are humans who are bigger monsters than vampires..._

"What's over there?" he asked the forensics expert, gesturing toward a large amber-tinted glass jar with a heavy metal top. Set off to one side on the tarp, it was half full of indefinable bits and pieces of material.

"Oh, that," Gene's face saddened. "That is all the human remains I've been able to identify so far. I feel badly because Victoria impressed upon me how important it was to retrieve remains for the next of kin, but the force of the blast is making that extremely difficult. This is all I've been able to gather. I have another couple of hours before I have to leave – maybe I'll be able to add to it." He seemed genuinely distressed at his inability to do more.

"It will be enough, Gene. I promise you, the people that miss her will be thankful to have this." Mick reached out his hand to pat Gene on the shoulder. It was hard not to like the pleasant little man.

After getting Divan a cup of coffee from the local Starbucks, Mick said good–bye, shaking his hand and telling him again how much his efforts were appreciated.

"I hope you get whoever did this, Mick," Gene said, as they parted. "They deserve a reckoning with their maker!"

Those words still echoing in his ears, Mick made his way to SoHo and his meeting at New York Medical. On the way, he tried Beth again, knowing that she would probably be on her way to work. The call once more rolled over to her voice mail. "Hi, you've reached Beth Turner..." He growled and threw his phone down on the cab seat next to him in exasperation. Women!

Gabrielle Sinclair met him outside the entrance to the small building housing the medical supply company, stylishly dressed in tight black jeans, black stiletto heels, and an animal print top. "How are you today, Mick – no shower this morning?" Gabby teased.

"Actually, yes – with help from a strategically–placed towel!" Mick St. John grinned down at the tiny Oriental girl.

Gabby protested, pouting. "You're going to get me in a world of trouble with Victoria for spilling the beans! You are her favorite new hobby, you know."

"Somehow, I think she'll survive, Gabby."

"You met with Gene Divan this morning, right? Isn't he a sweetheart? Did he find anything for you?" Gabrielle was a bundle of energy this morning, Mick reflected tiredly from behind stylish sunglasses.

_Man! She's a lot like Beth... no off switch!_

"He just confirmed what we knew – the oxygen tanks caused the explosion and fire. He also said he thinks they were all close together around the bed – it's clear to me that it was deliberate, Gabby. The question is just who – and why." They made their way into the building as they spoke, Mick bending his head to speak to the much smaller Gabrielle without being overheard. She led the way to the run-down office, asking for John Giles, the owner of the small company.

They were ushered into yet another smaller, shabby office. Gabby looked around with raised eyebrows, "There doesn't seem to be much money in medical supplies, does there? At least not any that they are willing to put into decor!"

Mick nodded, but did not respond, his thoughts on the opposite coast. Between the hectic pace he had been keeping since getting here, and the time difference, he had not been able to speak live with Beth since their brief conversation during his flight out yesterday morning. He'd left her two voice mails, but had yet to hear back from her. He had no concrete reason to think that anything was wrong, yet he had a constant, nagging worry about her safety. They rarely went this long without speaking. _Face facts, that probably has something to do with Victoria answering your phone._

At that moment, John Giles rushed into the office, nervously shaking their hands and apologizing profusely for keeping them waiting. He was an older man, with a deeply-lined face and eyes narrow slits behind wire–rim glasses.

He looks like he should be a school teacher. St. John shook hands with the timid man and introduced Gabrielle Sinclair as a colleague.

Giles sat down behind his desk, agitatedly shuffling papers and scooping paper clips into a pile. "Wha– what can I do for you?" he stammered, looking from Gabrielle Sinclair to Mick St. John uncertainly. His voice was thin and dry, with a stammer that frequently impeded the conversation.

_So jittery! Is he hiding something?_ St. John couldn't be sure.

"Mr. Giles," he began, "Ms. Sinclair and I are both private investigators, working on behalf of the families of people killed in a fire at 300 Waverly Place. We've come to talk with you about a delivery your people made there two days ago. Six oxygen tanks. What can you tell us about that shipment?"

"I'm n-n-not sure I'm authorized to tell you anything! We ha-have to comply with HIPAA laws and regulations here."

Mick leaned forward, his eyes boring in on the flustered man behind the desk. "There is no proprietary or confidential medical information involved here, Mr. Giles. Ms. Sinclair and I both have the authority to ask these questions on behalf of our clients. There are... inconsistencies... in the way these people died in that fire. You can talk to us – or you can talk to the police. But, either way, we are going to get answers."

Giles visibly shrank back in his chair, away from the threatening presence of St. John. Shakily, he cast his gaze around the room, unwilling to make eye contact with the intimidating man across the desk. "N–no, that's okay. I ju-ju-just don't want to get into any trouble. We don't have anything to hide – I don't have anything to hide," he corrected himself quickly. Mick and Gabrielle exchanged quick glances.

_Is he lying? Or, is he just a bundle of nerves? I'm having a hard time telling._

"Tell me about the order," Mick commanded, sitting back in his chair, hoping to settle the owner down.

"Oh, he–here it is," Giles pulled a paper out of the stack. "300 Waverly Place. Yes, an order came in on Friday night for six O2 tanks to be delivered there no later than Saturday evening. This is a long–standing account, with an excellent p-p-payment record. There was no reason n-not to fill the order. Then," he squinted through his glasses at the order, "it looks like we picked up a call on our answering machine yesterday – Monday morning – from Paula Bridges, the home health ca-ca-care nurse working there. She called on Sunday afternoon and left a me-message, saying that the order was delivered in error and that we were to pick it back up. The pick–up was scheduled for Monday afternoon, but when my truck got there... well, I'm sure you know what he found." Giles seemed to feel that he was on firmer ground here, his stammer popping up less and less as he recited the facts from the report in his hands.

"Wasn't that order unusual?" Gabrielle frowned as she joined the conversation.

The man's eyes shifted to her, then quickly looked away. "Umm, w-w-well, we've been su-supplying O2 to that address for a long time, along with other su-su-supplies. Maybe it was a little larger than what we might normally expect, is all."

"A little larger?" she echoed softly. "The account goes from having one oxygen canister that is only replaced when it is due to expire – to six tanks delivered all at once – and you don't think anything of it? This wasn't a nursing home, you know!"

Giles held up his hands defensively in front of him. "W-wait just a minute here. This order was a little large for this account – but it isn't out of the ordinary for us at all! You have to understand that we supply materials to more than just nursing homes. There are private care facilities for wealthy patients all over town, and they are a big part of our business. These patients are old – and s-s-sick. They come and go... if you get my drift. I just as-assumed they got a few new patients in that required O2 support. Happens all the time."

"And, you never questioned it. Just more business for you." Mick glared at the owner.

Giles stood up behind his desk, swallowing hard. "Look, Mr... St. John, is it? I don't kno-know what you're trying to insinuate here, but it isn't my job to police this s-s-stuff. These aren't controlled substances. They order, I supply, they pay. Simple as th-that. If you are angling for an insurance settlement for negligence here, it isn't going to wo-work!" He sank back down heavily in his chair, his defiant stance appearing to take a toll on him.

The private investigator decided that the man was probably just as he seemed – a nervous, small–time businessman, who filled orders without asking any questions, just trying to stay afloat. There were presumably also some under–the–table deals going on, which might explain his agitation. If there was more to it than that, he didn't want to raise any red flags that would cause Giles to cover his tracks. He could have Gabby keep him under surveillance. He exchanged glances with that 'young' woman, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Okay, okay, Mr. Giles. I apologize if our questions offended you in any way. We didn't mean to imply that you had anything to do with this or were, in any way, responsible. I was brought in from L.A. to investigate this – guess I've still got jet lag."

"S-s-sorry, I probably over–reacted too." John Giles smiled tentatively. "There are lots of lawsuits and threats of lawsuits when you work in a town like this. We su-supply so many types of customers – commercial care, private care, in–home care, you name it. We get a mi-miillion different requests. That's why this didn't stick out for me. I feel te-te-terrible if anything we did contributed to this awful accident in any way."

"One last question," Mick St. John stood up with Gabby to leave the small, seedy office. "Can you confirm for me who pays the account – and who the order supposedly came from?"

Giles rushed toward the door as he answered, obviously anxious to get them out of his office. "I really shouldn't do this – but, the information isn't truly proprietary, so ye-yeah... it's billed to Kostan Industries."

St. John's face betrayed none of his emotions as he smoothly thanked the owner for his time and assistance, then exited the building, Gabby trailing close behind.

John Giles sat back down at his desk and watched them leave, his sophisticated security cameras displaying their image on his monitor as they went. Once he was sure that they were safely away, he pulled a cell phone out of a desk drawer and punched in a series of numbers, throwing his fake glasses down on the desktop while he waited for the connection. After a short pause, he spoke, his voice very different from the nervous tone he had displayed with his two recent visitors, no hint of any stammer in his clipped statements.

"Yes, just wanted to let you know that two of them were just here. Asking about the fire at Waverly Place." He glanced down at the infrared scanner in the middle desk drawer, then closed the drawer slowly as he listened. Checking the notes he had made, he confirmed, "Mick St. John from L.A.- and Gabrielle Sinclair. Yes, Victoria Silver's sidekick."

He paused again, listening intently, then answered, " I don't think they suspected anything, but they did trace the fire to the oxygen tanks... No, I don't know where they headed from here... I will." The conversation ended, he tucked the phone in his breast pocket, smiling to himself as he picked up his pen. It was going to be a productive week.

* * *

Out on the sidewalk in front of New York Medical, Gabby was about to speak when Mick shook his head. He took her arm and walked her down the street toward a small corner coffee shop in the next block. "I don't want to take a chance on being overheard," he murmured, holding up his hand to shield his face from the light as he escorted her along the street.

They were unaware of the stylish figure they cut, Gabrielle tiny and lithe in her black jeans and high black heels, Mick, tall and muscular,with the collar of his long, tailored pin stripe coat upturned against the sun. At the coffee shop, they both ordered elaborate drinks in order to justify sitting in the shaded courtyard area attached to it.

"You know," Gabrielle said wistfully as they sat down, "I've never actually tasted a frappachino - they weren't around when I was turned. They certainly look wonderful though!" She eyed the large, whipped–cream-topped drink. "There are days when being a vampire sucks..."

"Yeah... I hear you." Mick thought back to his short sojourn as a human and how wonderful coffee – and other foods – had tasted. Even though they couldn't drink the actual beverage, the aroma was still enticing, and the action of sitting down at a coffee shop felt very comforting, very... human.

He briefly toyed with the idea of asking Gabrielle about her background, as Victoria had suggested. Glancing at his watch, he decided against it as he realized their time was short – they still had to get to Brooklyn to meet with the home health care agency head at two p.m. Coming back to the task at hand, he sighed. "Well, that appears to be a dead end – with the trail leading right back to Josef, which isn't good. That account must be paid out of Josef's finances automatically or he would have mentioned it. I don't think he knows half of what his accountants have set up."

"Did you think Giles was telling the truth?" Gabby stirred the drink in front of her. "I was having a hard time figuring him out"

"I don't know. I was going to ask you the same thing. Usually, I can tell, but the guy was so nervous, I couldn't be sure." St. John sighed again, stabbing at his drink with short, frustrated thrusts of the straw. "I think this was just a dead–end."

They talked about the case a few minutes more, then got up and hailed a taxi to get to Brooklyn and their next stop in this increasingly frustrating investigation.

* * *

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	10. Chapter 8, Need

**Author's Note: **Chapter 8 of this full-length novel finds Josef Kostan and Mick St. John returning from their harrowing and emotional trip to NYC, no closer to answers regarding the recent attacks on vampires. For Mick and Beth, it is a chance to reconnect, while Josef decides how much to share with Simone.

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and sexual content. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber(.com)

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter 8**

**Need**

**_INTRO: "Everything Changes" by Staind_**

(.com)/watch?v=2YOkHujdTMA

The panorama of New York City after dark spread out like an array of jewels below the rising jet - beauty that was lost on its passengers.

Mick St. John's face bore dark shadows of exhaustion from the two-day marathon he had just completed in the city falling away behind them. Despite the yeoman efforts of both Gabrielle Sinclair and him, they were still no closer to solving the mystery of who – or what – was responsible for the death of Sarah Whitley.

For that matter, he couldn't even point to a specific suspect in the near-fatal assault on Victoria Silver earlier that evening.

_Mick V/O: Some P.I. you are! What a mess! I can't wait to get back to L.A. - and Beth._

_Beth! _He whipped out his phone, ignoring the flight attendant's request for him to wait until they reached cruising altitude. Josef watched without comment from the other side of the cabin as he dialed her number, praying that they would connect. The last time she had called him, he'd had to hang up on her to call Gabby after Victoria was attacked. She was probably frantic by now…

"Beth! Hey, I'm sorry I had to hang up on you…no, I know. Everything's OK, I'm sorry I didn't call you back sooner – there was an emergency… No, I'll explain it to you when I see you… We're in the air now – just left LaGuardia… It'll be late when we get in, probably around two in the morning – I'll come right home."

He listened, his scowl deepening by the moment. "You're **what**? No, I thought we had agreed…well, maybe not, but I thought I had at least -… It's not **safe**, Beth…no, I DON'T want to discuss why right now!"

St. John sighed, exasperated. "Okay, well, I'm coming over as soon as I get in… No – when I get in!" The connection broken, he stared at the phone as if willing it to get Beth to obey him. Why were women always so stubborn? "She hung up on me!"

Looking up, he met his friend's amused stare. "Trouble with the little woman?" Josef inquired innocently, his eyes glowed blue in the dim light as he focused on the vampire across the cabin. He was obviously having fun at Mick's expense.

St. John held up his hand, warning his friend off. "I'm not in the mood, Josef. Beth is supposed to be at my place, not hers. It's not **safe** for her at her apartment."

"Really? Why is that?"

"What?" Mick exploded. "I honestly don't think I **know** you sometimes, Josef! You just left New York like there was a lynch mob after you! Victoria's in a coma - who knows if she'll even live! Gabby is dealing with everything herself. We have no idea who is responsible for all this – or for Sarah's death! So, y**ou** tell **ME**, Josef! Why **isn't** it safe for Beth?" His tirade over, he glared at Kostan, the silence between the two men lengthening and deepening.

Frustrated, Mick got up and stalked over to his friend, throwing himself down in the chair across from him. "You owe me an explanation about Crucis if you want me to continue this investigation for you – and don't lie to me, Josef."

"What did Victoria tell you?" Josef's eyes shifted away from Mick's gaze.

"Not much – just that it was an organized group with a history of persecution of vamps. She said they were dangerous to our kind. And, she also said it wasn't her place to tell me more – that it was up to you to decide how much to tell me. So… tell me **everything**, Josef." Mick leaned forward, his glare daring Josef to deny him the information he demanded.

Kostan jumped up out of his chair and began pacing in the small, but luxurious cabin. Truth be told, he had hoped that there would never be a need for this discussion with the much younger vampire.

"It's actually **not **as mysterious or conspiratorial as Victoria made it sound, Mick. Crucis is the name of an organization that has been around since… well, since there have been vamps, actually. Crucis members are descendants - and recruits - of humans who were originally helpers and servants of vamps."

He stopped to pick up the Maker's Mark he had poured earlier - more as a stalling tactic than because he needed the drink - as he contemplated how much to tell his friend. "Back in the beginning, vamps needed the assistance of humans to survive. There was no refrigeration, no A-C… no blood banks. Vamps needed help with finding shelter and getting the blood they needed. It was a symbiotic relationship – Crucis members supplied that kind of service for vamps and, in exchange, they were rewarded with wealth, power… and protection. They weren't really organized though; not then."

"So, what happened?"

"Somewhere along the way – before my time – the whole thing changed. The quid pro quo was off, and the relationship became an adversarial one. Now, Crucis members hunt and kill vamps. Simple as that." Josef shrugged, as if apologetic that there wasn't more to tell.

"That's **it**?" Mick's tone was skeptical.

"Sorry I can't provide you with more intrigue. Look. I know Victoria made it seem like more than that, but it's not. It's no big conspiracy – just a few whack jobs that get their jollies killing vamps."

"So, you don't think this group had **anything **to do with the attack on Victoria - or Sarah's death."

"For all I know, the attack on Victoria **could** have been orchestrated by them, although I haven't heard of them being that sophisticated. But, Sarah? No way – that's just too much of a stretch. But, what can I say – there are crazy people everywhere."

"What about all the other attacks on vamps in New York lately – and the ones that are still missing? I **heard** Victoria tell you she thought it was Crucis, Josef."

"Well, what Victoria **thinks** versus what is **real** may be two different things – she's always been given to high drama and paranoia. She's cried wolf any number of times through the years on this. And, even if it **is** Crucis organizing all this, that's happened from time to time. You get a particularly bloodthirsty group with delusions of grandeur…and it's trouble for vamps. I'm not implying that they aren't dangerous in their own way. Lola always thought Crucis was behind that whole fiasco in Spain I told you about. So, anything is **possible**… but most of it isn't probable. You know me, Mick. I'd really like to be able to add to the whole melodrama, but I just don't see it."

"Then, why did you insist on leaving like that when they needed our help?" Mick's voice was rising in spite of his best efforts to remain calm.

Now, it was Josef's turn to shout, his boyish face looking haggard in the dim light. "Look, Mick! I'm very fond of Victoria – and I've known her for a **hell** of a lot longer than you have. But, I **do** think New York is about to become a powder keg and I don't want to be caught up in it…not even for Victoria. I just don't happen to think it's some big Crucis plot. There have been vamp killings, and the vamp community is going to retaliate – and soon. We don't want to be there for that, trust me."

"You're not telling me everything, Josef!" Mick couldn't shake the sense that his friend was – for whatever reason – not telling him the truth. _But why? _The idea that Josef was lying to him left him both frustrated...and worried.

"I'm telling you what matters, Mick. This conversation is over." He hadn't actually deceived his best friend, Kostan told himself. Josef had learned a long time ago that the younger vampire had a sixth sense about when someone was lying._ I hope I'm convincing him - I wish I could convince myself…_

_

* * *

_

Beth stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at three pieces of packed luggage without really seeing them. She had managed to condense her functional requirements down to mere suitcases. The job had been started on Monday night and then set aside when she decided to stay at her own apartment. Now, with nothing else to occupy her time, she'd begun again. Even with the work she'd already done, the task had required over an hour to complete...and she still had to clean up the resultant disarray. Everything from accessories to intimates was strewn about her closet, bed, and almost every other available surface of the room. She ran through her mental checklist one last time, rubbing wearily at her temples. Absentmindedly, her fingers reached up to whisk back errant strands of hair that had worked loose from her haphazard ponytail.

Clearing her excess clothes off the bed, Beth fell backwards onto the covers, thankful for the comforting caress of the quilt. She was tired. Not from her work day, or even her activities of the evening. Her weariness was a product of stress, fear... and yes, some anger - all of which traced back to her beloved vampire.

After effectively playing phone tag with him the entire time he'd been in New York, the last call had ended abruptly. He'd shouted that there was an emergency and hung up - and had been silent ever since. What was the emergency? Was **he** in danger? That worry had worked at her ever since the call.

Mick was not indestructible; she knew that all too well. She'd personally witnessed him badly injured - or tempting death - more than once. Staring blankly at the light above, she tried to wish away the dark memories threatening to wash over her, her mind bleakly indulging in the melancholy rewrite of myriad scenarios they'd shared that could have gone horribly wrong.

What if she hadn't disobeyed his order to stay in the car, putting her in a position to shoot the released convict, Lee Jay Spalding, before he killed Mick with silver buckshot? Or, if she hadn't followed him into the Pollock residence where he had been staked? What if Leni Hayes hadn't gotten through to her in time when he was dying in the desert?

And now, he was on the opposite end of the country, where he could be alone, hurting, and without her there to save or soothe. She shut her eyes against the onslaught, willing away the thoughts, and the newly formed tears that trailed them. _Please, please, let Mick come home..._

Beth's morose mind-play was silenced with the muffled sound of an iPhone ringing.

She flung herself off the bed and toward the closet door where her purse was hanging to retrieve her phone, grinning widely when the incoming call message clearly displayed his picture. Beth quickly pressed the talk button to accept the call. "Mick!" she bellowed with unrequited glee. "No, it's all right, I understand. Are you okay? What happened?"

Beth nodded. "Yes, we'll talk later. When are you coming home? You're already in route? Let's see - it's around 8:30 here... yeah, it'll be about two or so when you touch down. When you get in, promise me you'll go straight to bed - I mean, your freezer - don't even stop by here."

She went silent, her brows furrowing. "I'm at my apartment, Mick. I stopped by to pack some things, and then it got late, so I decided to stay here... no, we had **not **agreed on anything. We've barely had a chance to speak at all since you left for New York! Okay, you may have mentioned me staying, but it wasn't defini- "

Beth was now clearly perturbed. "Mick, I'm fine here. Wha... what's the big deal? I lived here years before I even met you - okay, met again, whatever... what harm is a couple of nights?" She began to breathe rapidly, her agitation escalating. "I am **perfectly** safe in **my own apartment**. I can take care of myself, you know."

Judging from his heated response, that was not the thing to say. "Mick, I am a grown woman. Don't I have some say as to where I sleep? And it's already late. Why are you making a big deal out of this? Can't we even talk about it?"

His volume and tone were becoming confrontational. This much anticipated phone call was rapidly degenerating into an argument. "Mick...good night!" With a jab of the disconnect button, she ended it as quickly as it started. Within the span of about fifteen minutes, she had run a full emotional gambit, from despair and fear, to exhilaration, then crashing down to indignation and frustration.

And now...officially pissed.

Wiping the tears of anger from her face, her delicate jaw set, she decided to put the built-up adrenaline to good use. Donning a pair of old gray sweats, for the next three hours she swept, vacuumed, dusted, folded and vented her spleen throughout her apartment. No dust bunny, patch of lint, questionable Chinese food, laundry or flat surface she could reach was safe from her onslaught.

Once she was done - or, more accurately, had run out of anything to else to do - Beth stripped, tossed her grungies in a nearby hamper, and hopped into her shower. She emerged from her bathroom minutes later, feeling a world better. Unable to dismiss Mick's concerns regarding her safety, she walked to her nightstand, and rummaged through it, looking for... there it was! She took the small can of mace and placed it on the stand. _Now he can't say that I'm not being cautious! _Despite what Mick might have thought, she **did** listen to what he had to say - it would be foolhardy not to listen. He was a top-flight private investigator, with a wealth of experience, and she knew he was right far more often than not. _But that __**doesn't**__ give him the right to order me around._

She finished drying herself, quickly running the towel through her hair as she thought about what Mick had said. She searched the drawer for a few more moments, tossing the pale-peach nightie she unearthed onto her bed. Sliding the nightgown, not much longer than a tank top, over her head, she allowed herself to revel in the feel of cool fabric on her skin. Her mind involuntarily transformed the caress of cotton into the deft, skilled touch of strong, masculine fingers...

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, chastising her body for its betrayal. _I need something to keep me busy!_ To distract herself, she sat down at the computer to catch up on the news. That was one of the many things she missed about working at BuzzWire - the ability to easily stay on top of what was happening in the world. She often felt like she was being shut away from the outside world when she was working on a case in the D.A.'s office.

Frowning, she scrolled through the national and international news, then decided to focus on New York City. Maybe she could find some news reports related to Sarah's accident. _They won't show up under Sarah's name though..._ Sarah was truly lost to the world when Josef tried to turn her. She Googled the Waverly Place address where she and Mick had first uncovered Josef's secret (or should it be 'the secret of Sarah?) and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when the computer brought up pictures of the smoking ruins that had once been a lovely brownstone. _Poor Sarah! Poor __**Josef!**_ She scrolled through the report, noting that the article stated that the fatal fire had, in all likelihood, been the result of an accidental explosion. Then, she noticed a related link in the right-hand column - John Whitley!

Clicking over to the new article, she read that Whitley, a real estate magnate in his earlier years, had once owned most of the brownstones in the block in which the explosion had occurred. _How ironic!_ She was about to close the page when a sentence and link near the end of the article caught her eye. Making one more jump, her eyes widened as she read the headline.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed. It was an obituary! Scanning it quickly, she realized that Whitley had died the week before. Knowing he must have died alone and unloved, she couldn't help feeling sorry for him. _I wonder if Mick knows._

_Mick_... the thought of him brought back their argument. Drained and defeated - and still missing him despite her anger - Beth shut down the computer, crawled under the covers, and turned off the lights. Grabbing the mace, she placed it under the pillow next to her, and willed herself to sleep.

* * *

"Logan! What have you got for me?" St. John had given up on getting anything else out of Josef Kostan for the time being. When Josef dug his heels in, there was no budging him. The biggest mystery to him wasn't what the older vampire wasn't telling him, but why he was being lied to in the first place. He could think of no logical reason for him to withhold information about Crucis from him. That still left him with two investigations to pursue...from across the country.

"Hey, Mick! I wondered when I'd hear from you. You back?" Logan Griffen was genuinely glad to hear from his friend. He greatly admired the private investigator and, while he charged him exorbitant amounts of money for the work he did for him, he probably would have done it for free - a fact he had no intention of ever revealing. St. John always treated him as an equal, with admiration for his abilities. It had been one of the highlights of his life as a vampire to play a role in the rescue operation for Emma Monaghan, and it had been he who had caused the wreck of the police van that ultimately freed her.

"No, on our way back. So, what did you find out, Logan?"

"Well, not a hell of a lot yet. The woman appears to be a ghost!"

"You mean you haven't found **anything**!" Mick's composure was shattered at this rare failure on Logan's part. "What have you been doing - playing World of Warcraft instead of working? I asked you to get **on** this!"

_Mick V/O: Why doesn't anyone else seem to feel any urgency here? Maybe it's Josef rubbing off on me, but I can't help feeling like the world is about to cave in on us._

"Hey, back **off**, Mick! I **have** been working on it!" The unusual scolding stunned Logan. His response was also due, in part, to the fact that Mick's guess was dangerously close to the truth. _But I only played for a few minutes_, he rationalized to himself.

"The woman's a ghost, I'm telling you, Mick. I checked on her New York nursing license - that's on file with the state and it may be legit - but her BSN? Not so much. And the phone numbers listed to her? Both her cell and her land line were activated about six months ago - and both of them were disconnected on Monday morning." Logan tugged his hand through his tight curls in frustration.

"What about her social security number? Driver's license?"

"The same with both of them - fake, created about six months ago."

"Shit!" Mick's exasperation showed in his voice. "What about her employment records?"

"Well, maybe there would be something in the Renaissance employee records that might help - but they have a **very** sophisticated system. I haven't been able to tap into it yet."

"Isn't that unusual for a company like that? They're just a home health care agency, not the CIA!"

_Mick V/O: _ _Here I was suspicious of John Giles. Maybe I was wrong about Judy Albert and Renaissance being harmless. Man, I'm __**really**__ off my game here. _

"It **is** kind of weird, but it **does** happen, especially if the owner is a techno-geek and thinks he's a real player."

"Look, Logan, call Ryder England. If he can tap into the Pentagon records, surely he can get into the Renaissance system." He anticipated Griffen's next comments. "And, I know he works for Josef Kostan. You can tell Ryder for me that Josef will support his doing whatever is needed to help get this information. Let me know as soon as you two find out anything more."

Ending the conversation, he looked over at Josef. "I'm assuming you're OK with Ryder helping out."

"What?" Kostan had been lost in his own thoughts, already second-guessing himself over what he had told his friend about Crucis. "No, that's fine; whatever you need, Mick. You know that. I want to get to the bottom of all this as much as you do - **more**, in fact."

St. John did not reply to this. _I hope so, Josef. I hope so._ He closed his eyes as he allowed his weary bones to sink back into the plush leather seat. _Just let me get home._

_

* * *

_

In the city below, Gabrielle Sinclair was on constant alert, restlessly patrolling Victoria's condo. She checked with each member of the security contingent she had assembled, making sure they were alert, then moving back to Victoria's bedroom to check on her condition, then back, starting the whole route all over again. The questions swirling through her mind made her jumpy and restless...and there were so few answers.

Who had attacked Victoria - and why? Who was behind all of the recent vampire attacks in the city? Were they all tied to the death of Sarah Whitley? What about all the loose ends she and Mick had uncovered in their brief investigation? Were John Giles or Judy Albert tied to all this? Why had Josef Kostan left as if the hounds of hell had been set upon him? She sighed. This was an impossible situation with no easy way out. Resigning herself to a long wait, she began prowling again...

* * *

_**For the remainder of Chapter 8, Need, along with associated embeds of pictures and music that the fanfic system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

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_**Chapter 9, Balancing Act, will be posted on Friday, December 3  
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	11. Chapter 9, Balancing Act

**Author's Note: **Chapter 9, Balancing Act, of this full-length novel finds a recovered Victoria Silver meeting with the NYC vampires to outline the threat to them; in L.A., Mick St. John continues his investigation into the death of Sarah Whitley and tries to track down her probable murderer. In the DA's office, the situation grows complicated as Ben Talbot looks more closely at Mick, and Jamie Sommers maneuvers to get closer to Beth Turner and meet her vampire boyfriend. Who can be trusted?

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and sexual content. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber(.com) with embedded music and videos.

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**I am re-posting as I forgot to add that, due to holiday commitments, Chapter 10, Distractions (one of my personal favorites) **

**will not be posted until Jan. 7. Happy New Year everyone!**

**Chapter 9**

**Balancing Act**

_Intro Song:_  
"Undisclosed Desires" by Muse  
youtube(.com)/watch?v=R8OOWcsFj0U

Wednesday was a lost day for Beth. Though she had made a valiant effort to go to work as normal, the stress, worry, and activities in the pre-dawn hours had exhausted her to the point of near uselessness. Both she and Mick needed to recuperate, and reconnect.

_What we __**need**__ isn't always what we get_, Beth thought to herself, looking around the empty penthouse in frustration. She had tried to convince Mick that he needed a 'day off', to no avail. Even when she pointed out that Ben offered her time off due to her "family emergency, and it would look suspicious if she didn't take him up on it, Mick had insisted that he needed to follow up on the New York City investigation.

"Just don't be gone too long, okay?" She laced her fingers together at the back of his head, holding him in place as she looked into his eyes, frowning at what she saw there. _So tired…so worried._

"I won't, I promise…scout's honor." Mick made the sign of the cross over his heart and held up his hand to pledge to her. "I was a boy scout when I was young, you know – and a damn good one."

Beth laughed at that in spite of her worry. "Why do I think you probably broke every rule in the handbook?"

He shook his head ruefully. "You know me too well already." He bent his head to kiss her. "Take a nap; I'll be back before you know it."

With that, the vampire was gone, the feel of his lips on hers lingering behind him, leaving her alone with her worry. The fact that he had not been able to solve the mystery of Sarah's murder - or Victoria's attack - was clearly weighing on Mick. Even so, she could tell that he appreciated her concern for his well-being. _If only he'd be concerned for his __**own**__ welfare... _

Beth sat up with a start, pushing against the soft butterscotch-colored cushions on the couch, to see an amused private investigator sitting at the other end, sipping the ruby-colored elixir that kept him alive.

"Mick! You came back! What made you change your mind?" She pushed her disheveled hair out of her eyes.

He shook his head in amusement. "Um, I was gone for four hours, Beth! I saw Logan and went to Josef's to give him an update – you were out like a light when I got back."

Chagrined, she glanced at her watch – it was after noon! "I can't believe I slept that long; it felt like you had just left!"

Mick put a comforting hand on her leg. "Beth, you needed it. And, from the looks of you, you could use some more sleep at that."

She laughed. "Is that your kind way of telling me I'm a mess?"

"Nope. Just my kind way of telling you to go up and make use of that bed we bought. I need some freezer time anyway, so why don't you come wake me up around seven and we'll go out to eat?"

"You mean **I'll** eat, don't you?"

"You know I don't mind. I enjoy just spending time with you - your company is my nourishment, corny as that may sound." He rubbed his hand up her leg lightly, the touch of his fingers sending shivers up her spine. "Promise to wake me up if I'm not up by then?"

She crawled on her hands and knees across the couch to the vampire, planting a kiss on the 'v' of skin showing at the top of his navy Henley shirt. "It doesn't sound corny, it sounds... sweet." She laughed as he rolled his eyes and grimaced, a quintessentially male response. "What if I'd rather eat… in?" she asked in her sexiest voice, tilting her head to look up into his eyes.

He kissed her then, a long, lingering kiss, full of love and passion, before moving his lips to her ear. "That could be arranged," he whispered throatily.

They didn't make it out of the penthouse that evening.

* * *

Thursday saw a return to normalcy - or at least the Mick and Beth version of normal. The old Mercedes roared down the freeway in the morning sunlight, heading toward the L.A. County District Attorney's office. It was earlier than her normal commute to work, but she was feeling exceedingly guilty about taking the previous day off, given her current case load.

Mick St. John stared at his passenger over the top of his sunglasses, eyebrows raised. "What has gotten into you, Beth?"

The object of his attention was currently leaning toward him, hand seductively caressing his thigh. "This **is** me... but only when I'm with you." Her blue eyes looked innocently up at him, her smile sweet.

"It's not going to distract me from continuing this conversation with you, you know." He had tried to broach the subject with her the previous evening, but Beth had resisted, and he hadn't wanted to ruin a rare day of relaxation for her by forcing the issue. And now...

She sulked. "This is not a conversation. This is brooding. **You** are brooding. That's why I didn't want to talk about this last night! You are just so, so... OCD over this whole thing!"

Mick shook his head emphatically. "I'm not brooding. You don't understand. And, I realize it's not your fault - there is no way for you to be able to understand. I would just never forgive myself if I hurt you."

Beth removed her hand from his leg, and crossed both arms across her chest defensively. "Oh, so now you're being pejorative. I'm not a child, Mick. I understand more than you give me credit for, but you keep insisting on treating me like a kid about this."

Mick contemplated interjecting that he had, in point of fact, **known** her as a child, but her current mood made him think better of it. "Beth, I told you sex with humans doesn't end well - and, most of the time, it **doesn't**. I'm trying to keep that from happening with us."

Beth hesitated. "I get it, Mick. You don't want to hurt me, not even accidentally." One small hand stretched to rub his cheek. "And that's one of the reasons I love you." She paused again. "Maybe - no, hear me out - maybe we should find a way to allow that part of you to come out. Under control. It's part of you, after all."

One eyebrow raised notably above the line of his sunglasses. "Look, Beth, I appreciate your... adventurousness. I really do. It would be fine if it were as easy as all that. The problem is that I'm afraid that I **won't** be in control." He repeated, "You just don't understand."

Beth blew out another breath in frustration. There it was again. The Great Wall, the thing that always put a layer of separation between them. "You keep saying that. Maybe I **would** understand if you'd actually tell me what goes on with you. I've asked you this before, but you keep shutting me out. You have to let me in, Mick, if there is any hope for us."

"I guess this really isn't a conversation for the drive to work. My mistake. Maybe we should wait and talk about this at home." He stared at her as they flew down the highway, his eyes impossible to read behind his dark glasses.

Beth stared back at him, arms still crossed. "And give you another excuse to put off this discussion? Uh-uh."

He gave in. "If you are going to insist - I'll try. But, this doesn't mean I'm going to change."

She gently rubbed his leg, this time with more affection than lust. "I never asked you to. I... I just want to know you - and I just want you - us - to be happy."

He was silent for a few moments, trying to determine the best way to start the discussion. _There __**is**__ no good way. _"The most important thing for you to understand is that I am not really in control of this thing - of vamping - when I'm under extreme stress. Anger, fear, passion, pain - any of those emotions can cause me to change. And then the vampire kind of takes over." He stopped to glance sideways at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

"Okay... well, so far, no big surprises, Mick, believe it or not."

He smiled over his sunglasses at her, grateful for her casual acceptance. "If I catch it at the beginning, I can restrain the urge - you know, if I start to get angry, or when things got so... heated between us in the shower. When I chased down Tierney's killer and caught up with him on the fire escape, I almost vamped out in front of him. I **wanted** to, but I was able to repress it. Once I'm caught up in it, though, it becomes very difficult to control. When I've crossed a certain line, it's like surfing a big wave - you have to ride it through to the end. The problem is, I don't always know exactly where that line is, or when I'm too far gone. To 'let it out', as you suggest, is playing with fire. What if I can't rein things back in? I don't want to risk you, Beth."

"But, is it good for you to stop **ALL **the time?"

He hesitated - for that question, he had no ready answer.

They continued toward Beth's office in silence.

* * *

Talbot sat staring at the papers and photographs fanned out on his desk, a frown gathering like a storm cloud on his face. It was becoming a morning ritual for him. Whenever possible, he would arrive early at the office - before most of the staff, before the phones started ringing, before his attention was pulled in ten different directions at once. Grabbing coffee, he would close his office door and spread out the pages of Mick St. John's file - credentials, case records, photos, his and Josh's notes.

Every morning, he read over the information, sifted through the records, reviewed the photographs - and every morning, the puzzle of Mick St. John remained unsolved. There was something going on with the P.I., he could feel it. Whatever it was, it went far beyond the fact that St. John had - purposefully or not - stolen Joshua Lindsey's girlfriend. And, just how **did **Beth play into all this? The answers had to be here, somewhere in all this information, if he just put the pieces together in the right way.

And then there was the matter of the list. _That goddamn list!_ He pulled it out of its separate folder and placed it neatly on his desk, in the spot he had reserved for it when he arranged the papers from Mick St. John's file. Talbot liked order in his universe - which was why the list was driving him to distraction.

It had appeared suddenly, shoved under the door one evening, shortly after he set up his office. Most likely, it was someone's idea of a practical joke. Jerking the new ADA's chain. Some of the names on the list certainly supported that theory. He picked up the list and flipped through it yet again. Sir Thomas More, Gaius Julius Caesar, Vlad Tepes..._Francois de-fucking Sade?_

He knew he should discard it. It was a red herring that distracted him from the hard facts related to Mick St. John, which was why it resided in its own, separate folder. What stayed his hand were some of the not-so-bizarre, yet still unexplainable, names catalogued there. The Monaghans; Pierce Anders, the psycho plastic surgeon who had abducted Beth and him; Josef Kostan, one of the country's wealthiest men; Mick St. John... Not to mention that some of the names, including the Monaghans and Anders, were crossed out. _And,__ all three of them mysteriously disappeared…__  
_  
He slurped the last of his coffee , wrinkling up his face at the now-cold beverage, and looked up to see members of his team filing in to their cubicles and offices. Phones were beginning to ring up and down the hall. With a last glare at the puzzling photographs - _how the hell __**did **__he walk away from that_ - he carefully placed the information back into the accordion file he had unloaded an hour earlier, no closer to answers than when he started. It was time to get on with his day and the many pressing cases facing his office. Another morning ritual completed. _More like obsession..._

_**For the remainder of Chapter 9, Balancing Act, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

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**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert () **

**Remove the () and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link  
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**Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages  
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_**We hope you'll poke around while you're there at Cape & Saber. Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_

_**Please note that, due to holiday commitments, Chapter 10, Distractions, will not be posted until Jan. 7.  
**_


	12. Chapter 10, Distractions

**Author's Note: **Chapter 10, Disclosures, of the full-length Moonlight novel.

Mick takes another step forward in his relationship with Beth, giving her a look into his past. Meanwhile, with the help of Logan and Ryder in L.A. and Gabrielle Sinclair in New York City, he continues his investigation into Sarah Whitley's death. Disturbing evidence is uncovered, raising further questions about the role of Renaissance Health Care in the murders, with no clear answers. Where will this lead?

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and sexual content. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music and videos.

**Please Note:**

_**Chapter 11, Pivot Point will be posted on Friday evening, 1/28/11. As with past chapters, it will be in abbreviated form here with the full chapter, along with music embeds at capeandsaber. Most chapters average 30 pages - 15,000 to 17,000 words - so what you see here is a small portion of the complete chapters.  
**_

_**The next meeting of the 'virtual' Book Club will be Sunday, 1/30/11, at 5 PM EST in the capeandsaber chat room. We will discuss this story and other Moonlight fanfiction. ** _**While the book chapters are available for access and download to anyone, to participate in the chat room requires registration at the site. Hope you can make it!**

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter 10**

**Distractions**

**INTRO**

**Angels and Airwaves - Distraction .com/watch?v=mUDlcXS9shU**

Mick awoke abruptly and looked around, briefly disoriented. Had Beth just left for work or had he dreamed it? Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he lifted his head to focus on the clock on the far wall, hazy when viewed through the freezer lid. Two o'clock! _Okay, I dreamed it._ The struggle to synchronize their disparate schedules was taking a toll on both of them.

If he were being honest with himself, many things were taking a toll. They had had words last night over Mick's ploy to meet Jamie Sommers at the office yesterday. He had hoped it'd escaped Beth's notice, since she hadn't given any indication at her office, or on the ride home. However, once they got inside, it was a different story. _I should have known better..._

Mick's suspicions regarding Beth's new 'friend' had been growing since she'd told him about their outing while he and Josef were in New York. He was leery of new people entering Beth's life now that they were together. The vampire was willing to concede that his solitary nature and need for secrecy tended to make him unusually suspicious of people; however, based on what Beth had shared, something about this woman didn't sit well with him.

His disquiet had deepened when Beth mentioned that she'd offered his services to Jamie to help locate a missing relative. He'd started asking questions about her office mate - how long had Beth known her, where was she from, what did she know about her history, what was her demeanor, whether the alleged missing person was out of state since Jamie was supposedly from New Orleans... on and on until Beth had finally balked at further grilling, challenging him about the reason for his questions.

Mick had told her it was his standard procedure before accepting new clients, hoping she'd accept his superficial explanation at face value.

Unfortunately for him, his Beth was one very smart blond. She was, as Josef had keenly noted, a "quick study," and she had detected his skepticism despite his best efforts to hide it. Her face had changed, brows knitting, large blue eyes narrowing to slits.

"Mick St. John, you no more needed help finding my cubicle than I do!" Beth had declared, hands firmly planted on hips. "What was going on at the office today?"

He had been forced to admit that her mention of Jamie's efforts to become her friend had triggered his internal alarm system. He'd detected an insistence from the woman that gave him cause for concern. He had wanted to meet - and assess - her for himself, something Beth hadn't appreciated when he confessed his motives.

"I'm not foolish, Mick. I'm not going to become friends with anyone questionable - and I would never say anything about what you are to anyone! You have to trust people - trust ME - a little more. You are beginning to sound like Josef - you see danger and conspiracies everywhere and I can't live like that!"

She stopped, as if something had just occurred to her. "You... you didn't just bring me flowers, did you?" Her mouth had gone from a line to a frown and her tone became suspicious. "The roses - they were just an excuse to come by and investigate Jamie... weren't they?"

He had quickly and vigorously denied her assertion, telling her he was wrong and asking her forgiveness. The reality, however, was that he wasn't sorry he had checked out Jamie - and if her heart rate and pupil dilation were any indication, she was very nervous about meeting him. Perhaps there was a simple explanation for it... but what if there wasn't?

He bit his lip. Maybe Beth was right. _Josef must be rubbing off on me. _

He pushed open the freezer lid and sat up, looking around with bleary eyes. A few more hours in the cold would have been welcomed, but he needed to talk with Logan and Ryder. He was curious about what – if anything – they had uncovered regarding the mystery nurse in New York City, the woman who appeared to have a connection to the explosion that caused the death of Sarah Whitley. He was curious – and he also had another motivation. He wanted to have all that out of the way before Beth got off work so they could start their weekend in peace. _I have plans for you, Miss Turner. _That thought made him smile.

He showered quickly, dressed, and hurried out the door, checking voice mail as he went.

_Josef! Damn!_

While he had spoken briefly with him on the phone, they had not seen each other since their return from New York - and Josef had made note of that fact. His message, inquiring after Mick's general health and well-being was obviously a signal, ending with "Come see me when you come up for air, Mick. I'm anxious to hear what you've found out."

"Okay, Josef, point taken," Mick muttered. His mentor – and nominal boss – apparently wanted his just due and Mick, despite the personal matters claiming his attention, had a job to do.

Josef had shown a side of himself in New York that he'd never seen before - a man with emotions and deep feelings, someone who told him to spend the time he needed with Beth. If Josef's message was any indication, it appeared as if that man had once more disappeared.

After a mercifully uneventful drive across town, Mick found himself banging futilely on the door to Logan Griffen's lair.

"Logan!" he shouted, scowling directly up into the security camera. "Logan! I know it's early! I need to talk to you! LOGAN!" He paused and listened. No answer.

The frustration evident in his face, the P.I. decided to take matters into his own hands. Reaching inside his ever-present coat, he removed his 'pick-pocket' kit and selected a small slender tool. Within seconds, he had jimmied the lock. With a wave toward the camera, he put his tools away and entered Logan's inner sanctum.

"Logan!" This time, his banging and shouting – coming just outside Logan's freezer – had the desired effect. With a groan, the curly-haired vampire pushed open his freezer lid and sat up.

"Mick, what the hell? What time is it?" Logan looked at his fellow vampire, dismay written all over his youthful face. He shook his head at Mick's response.

"It's almost three o'clock, Logan. Get up!"

"I certainly hope you mean three in the morning, but I have a bad feeling you mean afternoon."

"Yeah, Logan. Afternoon. Tough night on World of Warcraft?"

"Noooo." Logan's guilty face belied his answer. "Well, maybe a little. But hey, Mick, Ryder and I have been working our asses off, trying to follow up on all the information we've found. I needed a break!" He climbed out of the freezer as he spoke, clad only in now-stiff sweat pants. "Gimme a minute to get dressed, okay?"

Mick's eyebrow arched at the site of the vampire's 'sleepwear', but he refrained from commenting on it. ""Hurry up, okay? I have to go see Josef and I need an update before I do." Mick wheeled and hurried out to Logan's 'work' area.

The mention of Kostan's name lit a fire under Griffen. Throwing on fresh sweats, he hurried out to his bank of computers, where Mick now paced.

"Lemme try to get Ryder on-line, okay? I think he should be in on this."

"Fine. Just hurry up!" Mick was determined to get the information he needed and meet with Josef before Beth got off work. He wanted – needed – an evening with her free of distractions.

Logan had better luck rousing Ryder than Mick had encountered with him. Within a matter of minutes, his friendly face appeared on the large computer monitor. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he said, "Hi Logan. Hey Mick. What's going on?"

"Ah, Ryder, Mick here would like to know what we've found out. I thought you should be a part of the discussion."

"Fine by me. What's Logan told you so far, Mick?"

"Not a damn thing, Ryder, but I'd sure like for one of you to start!" Mick crossed his arms and waited.

"Okay, here's what we've got, Mick." Logan took a sip of blood from a glass that had obviously sat out for hours. Reflected in his computer screen, he saw the face Mick made at the clotted, congealed sludge and turned to his friend, his cherubic features clearly perplexed. "What? It's **fine**! Excuse me, Mick, but I don't like to waste things."

Logan began his recitation. "Okay, well, we told you that the info we had initially on this nurse - pretty much all of it was fake. No, wait. I take that back. The R.N. license for New York seemed to be correct - but the B.S.N. degree that is a requirement for a state nursing license may be bogus, right Ryder?"

"Yep. I'd bet a bag of blood on the R.N. license being a fake - and the college degree probably is too." Ryder's tone was morose. "When we got hold of the Renaissance personnel records, I checked her transcript - supposedly, she got a nursing degree from Loyola University in New Orleans. But, her transcript definitely didn't look like the ones I found for other nurses from the same school when I compared them. And, Mick, we had already figured out that her phone numbers were activated shortly before she started working for Renaissance - and discontinued the morning after the fire. That's pretty suspicious, in and of itself."

Mick grunted. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. That is too much of a coincidence for me."

Logan added eagerly, "Yesterday and today, we tried reaching the references we pulled off her application on file in the Renaissance system and guess what? They had all been discontinued shortly after she started working there - none of them were still active. Yet, her file indicates that Renaissance talked to them all."

Frowning, his eyes dark with concern, Mick asked, "What else? Did you find anything to incriminate Renaissance itself?"

Logan hesitated and Ryder plunged in. "Well, I don't know for sure how Renaissance is involved in whatever happened, Mick, but I can tell you I've never seen the kind of firewalls and security that we encountered in their system anywhere outside the Pentagon. I cannot think of any reason for a home health agency to have security like that. I've certainly never seen anything like it."

_How could I have been so wrong? It looks like Judy Albert fooled me. _The private investigator ran his hand through his hair in short, frustrated gestures. "What about her address? Credit card activity?"

"We do have her address from her application. It's probably a dead end as well - I couldn't find a business or residence registered for that site. Couldn't really tell anything from Google Earth either; the buildings are all just too close together." Logan looked up from his computer screen with worried eyes. "I guess we could have someone physically go there and check it out. As far as credit card activity, that gets really crazy..."

"You mean the rest of this hasn't been crazy?" Mick exploded at his fellow vampire, venting his rising frustration and worry.

"Okay, okay... crazier! Happy?" Logan amended. "Geez, chill out! Ryder and I traced her credit card records - her name is listed as Rebecca Bledsoe, by the way, but that's probably a fake too - and there are multiple airline ticket purchases."

"Where to?" Mick's eyes brightened. Maybe this was a clue to where to find the mysterious nurse.

"You name it!" Ryder replied sarcastically, buttoning a rumpled plaid shirt over his lean frame as he read off the list in front of him. "Miami, New Orleans, Dallas, Chicago, Las Vegas... all originating from New York City for travel on different airlines on the same day - the morning after the fire."

Mick uttered a short, heartfelt expletive.

"I hear you! None of this makes sense to me." Ryder stared out at them from the computer screen.

"It does if you figure its some kind of conspiracy." Logan glanced at Mick to see if more information would be forthcoming. _I don't know if I want to know more or not.._.

"Right." Mick focused on the ceiling for a moment, hands on hips, thinking. "Okay, I want you guys to put all this in writing for me, including the specifics of what you found in the Renaissance intranet security..."

"Already done, Mick," Ryder jumped in.

"Good. Send it to me - and print it out for me too. I want you to dig into the airlines' records and find out which ticket she actually used - if she used any of them. Then, I want you guys to start looking for shipments and transfers of arms or munitions... and silver. Just in case. All up and down the Eastern Seaboard. Look for any reported thefts too. Let me know if you find anything - anything at all."

"What are you going to be doing in the meantime, Mick?" Logan was curious... and concerned.

"I'm going to have a contact of mine in New York check some of this out in person - and I've got to talk to Josef."

Taking the printed pages out of Logan's hands, the worried P.I. disappeared up the stairs.

Looking at Ryder's puzzled face on the computer screen in front of him, Logan stated the obvious. "Whatever is going on, it's a really fucked up situation - and now we're stuck in it."

Ryder shook his head in agreement and began his search.

* * *

"Why, if it isn't my old friend, Mick St. John!" Josef Kostan turned from his perusal of the Dow Jones display to smile at his friend. There was no doubt, however, that the smile was not genuine.

_Well, the honeymoon's definitely over. So much for the kinder, gentler Josef Kostan..._"I know, I know, Josef." Mick held up his hand to ward off any further comments from the elder vampire. "I should have been here yesterday."

"Yes. Yes you should have, Mick."

"What happened to 'take all the time you need with Beth'? Besides, did you want me to waste your time before I had anything to tell you?"

"Well! Your concern for not wasting my time is admirable!" Josef responded dryly. "Then, may I assume from your presence that you have some useful information for me?" He walked over to the P.I. and offered him a glass of the thick, red liquid that sustained them.

Mick accepted the glass gratefully and took a long drink before answering. "Right now, I feel like someone has given me the pieces to a very complicated jigsaw puzzle and kept the box." He hurriedly filled Kostan in on the information that Logan and Ryder had compiled, handing Josef the printout they had provided. He made a point to stress how valuable their efforts had been, an action that Logan would have appreciated had he been present. "I've got them looking into any munitions thefts or silver purchases, just to be safe."

"What about this so-called nurse?" Josef flipped through the pages of information as they talked.

"Well, I've also got them trying to find out exactly where she went when she left New York, but that's tricky, given all the tickets she bought. I'm going to get in touch with Gabby as soon as it's a decent hour in New York. I'll have her check out the address this woman listed on her application - and ask her to go back and talk to our good friend, Judy Albert, again."

"Okay, I take it back. You have been doing something besides sleeping with the lovely Beth Turner. You **are **still sleeping with the lovely Beth Turner, aren't you?" Josef's dark eyes sparkled; he was never happier than when putting his best friend on the spot.

"Yes, Josef." Mick sighed. _Here it comes. _He had known he wouldn't get through this meeting without being grilled - again - on his personal life. Kostan seemed to need that sort of stimulation almost as much as blood. _I guess that's the price I have to pay..._

"Good! I was afraid that Victoria might have put her off, but I can see that Beth is more mature than to be bothered by a little thing like some gorgeous 300-year-old female vampire with the hots for you." He smiled wickedly at his friend - a real smile this time.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said she was happy about Victoria answering my phone. As for the rest of it... I didn't mention it, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't either, Josef. It's behind us now." He looked pleadingly at his friend, knowing that the likelihood that Josef would agree to this was somewhere between slim and none.

"Well... I'll think about it, how's that? You have to admit, discussing this topic with Beth would be very awkward... and I **do** love awkward, as Simone has so accurately pointed out."

Studying his friend's crestfallen face, Josef snickered. "I'm **kidding**, Mick. I won't say anything. You know I have a great deal of affection for Beth - and she's undeniably good for you. Although, I do have to say, for your sake, I certainly hope that Victoria and Beth never come face to face."

Mick got up from Josef's designer couch and headed toward the door, pausing to look back at the other vampire for a moment, one eyebrow cocked. "You know, that is one thing we can agree on, Josef. That would be a disaster."

_Let's just hope I'm wrong and that's the biggest worry you'll have... _Josef mused silently as he watched his friend leave. _Let's just hope I'm wrong._

**_

* * *

_**

_**For the remainder of Chapter 10, Disclosures, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, including an end video created specifically for the story, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber**** (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=12**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around while you're there at Cape & Saber.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	13. Chapter 11, Pivot Point

**Author's Note: An extended posting of ****Chapter 11, Pivot Point, of the full-length Moonlight novel, with the complete chapter available at capeandsaber. No membership is required to view or download the chapters. **

**The next installment, Chapter 12, Disclosures, will be posted Friday, February 18.**

**Chapter 11 Overview:**

_A lunch with friends leads Mick to discover a secret Beth is harboring and he vows to renew his quest to find a way to become human again. Simone seeks to become closer to Josef, who is still mourning over the death of Sarah Whitley. In New York City, mysterious men try to track down the source of efforts to hack into the Renaissance computer system. Will the trail lead them to Logan and Ryder?_

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and sexual content. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber(.com) with embedded music and videos.

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

_**Chapter 11**_

_**Pivot Point**_

**Intro Song:**

"**No Roads Left" by Linkin Park**

** (.com) /watch?v=Dafes6SwWBE**

Sean Reynolds had a problem. The pudgy man had raced home to check on the security breaches outlined by Judy Albert from the safety and anonymity of his small Brooklyn apartment. The evidence was clear. The system had been compromised and confidential information extracted...including personnel records for Rebecca Bledsoe.

"Shit!" he exclaimed to the room, jumping up so quickly he knocked his desk chair over. Agitated, he started pacing, casting glances at the computer screen every time he walked by, as if hoping the information might have magically changed since the last pass. _Don't panic Sean, __**think**__! _

He knew he was prone to 'catastrophising' as his mother used to put it. A college roommate had disparagingly called him 'Chicken Little' whenever he panicked over a real or imagined crisis.

_John and I can sort this out._ The thought that he wasn't alone in this mess calmed him slightly. He stopped pacing, retrieved his chair from the floor where it lay, and sat back down at the computer, waiting for rescue.

*******************************************************  
"Are you sure this is a smart thing to do, Victoria?" Gabby stopped prowling the room to eye her mentor, her concern evident in her face. She was tired and irritable; it was just before dawn and the night had been a busy one.

"You don't think it will work?" Victoria, calmly ensconced on her couch, took a sip of wine as she coolly eyed her subordinant.

"No, I actually think it has as good a chance to succeed as anything. I just think it's risky."

"Risk comes from not knowing what you're doing, darling." She smiled slyly at the young woman. "That's a quote from my good friend, Warren Buffet. I believe it applies here as well as in business, don't you think?"

Gabrielle shook her head incredulously at her friend. "Is there anyone worth knowing that you **don't **know?"

"No." Victoria stated emphatically. "If they are worth knowing, they are probably in my Rolodex. And - I **do** think we know what we are doing. So! Let's discuss Sunday evening. You have invited everyone on the list?"

"Of course, Victoria." Gabby threw herself down in a convenient chair and pulled the list out of her pocket. "I believe they are all coming." She had spent most of the night contacting the various members of the vampire tribe in New York City - a daunting task, given the size of the community.

"Including Hugo?" Victoria raised one elegantly arched eyebrow. Scanlin's presence was crucial.

"Yes. Including Hugo." Gabrielle made a distasteful face as she said his name.

"All right then. We have made our plans and it is now out of our hands. I do not believe in second-guessing myself, Gabby. Even the best-laid plans can go awry."

"Speaking of plans, Victoria, have you spoken to Josef? Let him in on our little scheme?"

"No, I have not." Victoria's lovely face clouded. "And, quite frankly, it's really none of his business, I still have a hard time understanding why he left so suddenly - and why he hasn't called me since. That's not like him." She shrugged, her thick dark hair swirling on her shoulders, then continued briskly, "However, we women spend **way** too much of our lives sitting around a phone, waiting for the man to call. He needs to call me, not the other way around."

After a long silence, heavy with Gabrielle's unspoken disapproval, Victoria tried again. "I know you don't agree, Gabby, but that's the way it's going to be. Now, I don't want to talk about Josef anymore. Let's enjoy this excellent wine and leave the rest to fate, shall we?"

She raised her glass in toast to the younger vampire, who caught up her own crystal goblet and touched it to Victoria's. Gabby thought about what she had said as she gloomily sipped at her wine. Victoria's counsel may be wise, but it was damned difficult to put into action.

Sunday night was going to be a bitch!

**********************************************************

Saturday morning came all too early for Beth. Sleeping again on the soft leather sofa, she was awakened by kitchen sounds - the rattle and clink of cutlery, augmented by the glorious smell of coffee brewing.

Reluctantly cracking one eye open, she sat up, only slightly surprised to be wearing one of Mick's silk pajama tops... certainly not the first time that had happened. She was even less surprised to have a pounding headache. What had possessed her to drink all that scotch the night before?

"I don't even **like** scotch that much," she said aloud, yawning and wincing at the pain this simple act generated in her head.

A cross between a laugh and a snort emanated from the kitchen area. "Could have fooled **me**," an amused vampire editorialized. Mick poked his head around the corner. "Good morning, sunshine."

Beth groaned and buried her head in her hands. "I've never felt **less **like sunshine. I don't suppose you have any aspirin in this place." She raised her head hopefully. "Do you?"

"Actually, you're in luck - I do keep some on hand for clients. I could probably spare a few. Here, this will help." He handed her a full glass of water, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly as he passed her on his way to the office area to dig out the much-needed medication.

Beth drank greedily, the fluid almost immediately helping to ease her headache. Mick returned, handing her aspirin and fetching a large mug of black coffee which she immediately began to gulp down. Sitting down next to her on the couch, he rubbed her leg. "Poor Beth." The sympathy in his words, however, was belied by the amused smile on his face.

"Don't tell me, let me guess. Vampires don't get hangovers." She glared at him as if he were personally responsible for vampire physiology and its quirks.

"Not that I know of. But, then, I don't know of many vampires who drink as much scotch as you did last night. How much of last night do you actually **remember**?"

"I'm not **that** bad, Mick St. John! I **did** go to college, after all, which does prepare one for nights of debauchery." Beth replied haughtily, then shook her head ruefully and laughed. Having to be put to bed - or, in this case, on the couch - did not allow for much in the way of pride.

Tucking her feet up under her, she leaned over to kiss him, savoring the feel of his sensuous mouth for a moment, before continuing. "I remember having one of the greatest nights of my life - eating the world's best fried chicken, meeting Miss Mickey, listening to great music, and..." she paused dramatically and grinned wickedly, "...having sex with the hottest musician I've ever met!"

"I thought you said you'd never slept with a musician before." He cocked one eyebrow at her.

"I **hadn't** - but that doesn't mean I've never **met** any!"

He laughed out loud. "Okay, I believe you. I would have let you sleep longer, but it's after eleven and I know you have lunch with Alison and Marissa today. And -"

"And, you need to get some freezer time." Beth finished for him.

He nodded. "Yeah. Wouldn't hurt."

"No, I need to get up and take a shower - as soon as my head will cooperate. I'm not meeting them until three, though, so I guess we are stretching it to call it lunch. Thank you for making me coffee!" She took another large gulp of the rich, dark brew, savoring the taste. "I'm sorry you can't have any. I feel terrible drinking this in front of you."

"It's all right, Beth. I came to terms with all that a long time ago. I don't want you feeling guilty every time you have a bite of food or a cup of coffee. Okay?"

"Got it." She smiled up at him. "So, are you going to sleep while I'm gone?'

"For a while. Your bed is coming today though, so I need to be up for that." He took her empty coffee mug from her and carried it to the kitchen for a refill. "I gather you **do **think that is important... right?"

"Definitely!" she exclaimed, excited by the thought of a real bed in the penthouse. "And, it's **our** bed, by the way, Mr. St. John. I expect you to spend a lot of time in it with me. Should I be here when they deliver it?"

He threw up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, **our** bed. And, no, you don't need to worry about being here. I'll take care of it. I can come get you after your lunch is over, though, if you like." He returned with the brimming mug, smiling again when she grabbed it from him as if it were a lifeline - which, this particular morning, it might be.

Beth mouthed 'thank you' up at him before gratefully taking a swallow of the fresh coffee. "I'd really like that, Mick. I'll just have Alison pick me up here." Beth envisioned the fun of having him join her after lunch with her friends. She only hoped that Marissa's heart could take it.

*************************************************************

For most people, weekends were for fun, frolic, or even simply rest - anything that provided a distraction from the day-to-day job demands of the work week. Sunny Los Angeles was especially conducive to recreational pursuits. Carl Davis, however, didn't have the inclination or time for such frivolity - at least not this Saturday. The situation at the U.S.-Mexico border in San Diego, always dicey at best, was now escalating to unprecedented levels of savagery.

The lieutenant examined the case file, alternating between reading it, drinking his morning coffee, and typing notes on his laptop. Carl opted not to use his home office, preferring instead to have the contents of his briefcase strewn about his coffee table. For some reason, using the living room allowed him to trick his mind into believing that he was not actually working. _Yeah, right._

Truth be told, Carl had nothing better to do - correction, nothing that he'd **rather **do- right now. To be under 35and reach his rank in the Los Angeles Police Department required sacrifices. There was no emotion, anger, or self-pity to it. "Those are the facts" as his grandfather used to say, "and there's no point crying over it. Either you beat the system, or it beats you. Your choice."

The officer smiled warmly at the remembrance of his "Papa", and all the images it evoked. With a tenth grade education, Lionel Davis had migrated as a young man from Shreveport, Louisiana to Los Angeles, California, landed a good job in the defense industry, and comfortably supported his family. He also managed to go back to school, eventually completing a two-year degree from a community college. That respect for education had been instilled in all his children.

That man's pride, determination, and solid work ethic was passed to Carl's father, Arthur... and down to him, along with the house he was living in now. No one bearing the name 'Davis' was allowed to be a slacker, or less than his or her best. Although, the definition of "best" was subject to interpretation...

Carl grimaced and returned to the present. Nothing good could come from dwelling on **that** ongoing point of contention within the Davis clan. Another sip of coffee, and he refocused... and froze. His inspection of crime scene photos from the most recent border murders yielded a gruesome fact that he hadn't seen in prior pictures - the victims here were beheaded.

Carl had seen plenty of carnage during his tenure on the police force, but something about this was especially disturbing... and then he focused on the smallness of several of the bodies. "Good God," he exclaimed out loud, "some of these look like..."

_Children_.

Maybe he was wrong. _Please, let me be wrong._ Enough of the bodies remained to tell that heads were missing, but they were so badly burned that visually deciphering age or gender was nearly impossible... He scrambled through the file, pulling out the written report and scanning it quickly...

_Dammit!_ It **was** children!

Dropping the pictures on the table, Carl leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, his face in his hands. This was too much. Just... too much. _No._ he admonished himself. _You're a professional._ Besides, he'd promised to send a copy to St. John before their meeting next week with Talbot, and he was a man of his word.

"Speaking of weird..." He spoke out loud again at the thought of the private investigator. There was something about the man... Carl couldn't put it into words. It was a visceral thing, a gut reaction, but he could **feel **that St. John was something different.

He'd heard about the P.I. even before meeting him. Those comments he'd taken with a grain of salt - there was no love lost between police and "freelancers". But, that initial face-to-face meeting... His first instinct had been to flee, to run as far and fast as he could from him. He'd never felt anything like that before. Yet, there was nothing overtly menacing about St. John - he was intelligent, polite, professional, very good at his job. By all rights, he should have liked the guy.

Instead, he'd been so put off by his own reaction that he'd willingly accepted any opportunity to be rude, curt, or downright mean to the man, even though he knew it wasn't right. He'd been all too accommodating of Josh Lindsey's order to search St. John during the drug raid at Club Valace.

"With pleasure," he'd uttered as he grabbed the private investigator, forcing his hands behind his head.

Still, reactions aside, Carl just could not abuse his authority that way. He had known the real reason Lindsey wanted Mick ruffled, and, regardless of his own feelings, Davis could not - and would not - justify it.

After frisking St. John, he'd ushered him outside the club, out of easy sight of the deputy district attorney. He had seen the quizzical expression on the P.I.'s face, and quickly put him at ease. "Just let Lindsey cool off a bit," he'd told St. John. "Come on, man. You were at the club with his girl. We're both men. You figure it out."

What struck Carl was Mick's voiced concern for Beth, and how quickly he'd dispelled any notion of impropriety with the reporter. Admittedly, he had trouble buying that part of it, considering how provocatively Beth had been dressed that evening. Even if St. John's intentions were innocent, it was fairly obvious to the lieutenant that hers were not.

However, Lieutenant Davis' opinion of the private investigator was forever changed on that tragic day when Josh was murdered. Regardless of his prior notions or uneasiness around Mick, no one could deny his heroic attempts to save Lindsey's life. _If only he'd known the comments Josh made about him before_, Carl joked darkly. But, somehow, he had a feeling that wouldn't have mattered. Mick would still have made the same valiant effort.

Afterward, in the police station, still wearing the shirt soaked with Josh's blood, the P.I. had interrogated Bustos. Although the henchman, not surprisingly, didn't divulge Tejada's real hideout, Carl did have to admit to a certain deep satisfaction with the abject terror that Mick had managed to instill in the criminal. The smell of urine had hit his nostrils the minute he'd gone in the room to collect the scumbag. _Good! The asshole deserved far worse_.

But, the law was what it was, even for pieces of work like Bustos. He was facing a capital case - accessory and co-conspirator in the kidnap and murder of a public official. Bustos, however, with the help of his attorney, plead out, saving the taxpayers, Josh's family, and Beth, the expense and pain of a prolonged trial. The deputy district attorney's life had ultimately been exchanged for knowing how and where HEM Brotherhood got drug shipments into the U.S. - and Bustos got a nice, soft cell in the prison psych ward.

The Latino's attorney always claimed that whatever St. John had done to him in the interrogation room had scarred him for life. The tapes, however, showed that the P.I. had never touched him, so that argument went nowhere. _What the hell __**had**__ Mick done to him?_ Carl wondered. Whatever it was, he sure didn't see it. He made a mental note to ask St. John about that sometime. Whatever the technique was, he wanted to use it!

Now, it looked like the Hermanos En Muerte gang was back - with a vengeance. Drug running and the murder of border agents and several innocents were, no doubt, their version of giving the finger to law enforcement. He had no hard evidence yet, but, based on the type and quantity of drugs involved, the delivery path used, and the "HEM haircut", as this style of beheading had come to be known in El Salvador, his intuition screamed that HEM was behind this.

Grimly, Carl took one last look at the brutality before stuffing the disturbing photos back in the file. With renewed determination, he leaned back into his sofa cushions, balanced the computer on his lap, and continued typing his notes in preparation for the coming week.

He still had questions, lots of them, regarding this case. But, if his instincts served him correctly - and they usually did - the meeting about this case would lead to exactly one place. The scene of the crime…

_**For the remainder of Chapter 11, Pivot Point, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber(.com)?sid=14&chapter=13**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**Chapter 12, Disclosures, will be posted on Friday, February 18.**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	14. Chapter 12, Disclosures extended version

**Author's Note: Extended version of Chapter 12, Disclosures, ****of the full-length Moonlight novel. The balance of the chapter is available for reading at capeandsaber (.com)**

**The next meeting of the Moonlight Virtual Book Club will be Sunday, March 6 at 5 PM, EST in the capeandsaber (.com) chat room. We will discuss this novel, as well as open the meeting to include other works of Moonlight FF that the group would like to discuss. This is an opportunity for writers and betas to discuss their ideas and plots with other writers, betas…and, most importantly, readers!**

**Please note that (free) membership is not required to read the complete novel at C however, access to the chat room is restricted to registered members.**

_Chapter 12 synopsis:_

_Carl Davis and Jamie Sommers meet to discuss a troubling case that may have repercussions for Jamie's mission; she connects with the leaders of her organization to discuss and strategize. Mick pushes Logan and Ryder to expand their investigation into the whereabouts of Sarah Whitley's murderer as the situation in New York City becomes more critical and the attacks on the community there lead to changes in leadership. Will the L.A. vampire community face danger as well?_

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence.

**The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music and videos. No membership is required to view or download the chapters. **

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

_**Chapter 12**_

_**Disclosures**_

_Intro Song:_  
**"Evil Thoughts" by Foxy Shazaam  
**.com/watch?v=7CGMhIjCRPQ

Sunday morning greeted Jamie Sommers with the guilt that seemed to be especially reserved for lapsed Catholics. She mused glumly that her grandmother, Betty Rae Johnson, would be turning in her grave right now at the thought that her properly raised granddaughter hadn't attended mass since landing in Los Angeles some four months ago. Almost her entire maternal line was entrenched in the French Quarter, so Catholicism was as natural as breathing.  
Jamie was pretty sure that "Big Mama" Johnson would not be pleased with quite a **few** things she was now doing with her life.

Yet, she still clung to those Catholic roots, reaffirmed, ironically enough, during those dark days after Hurricane Katrina. Everyone needed something to give them hope at that time. Some looked outward and, when it soon became clear that no dependable help was coming from that direction, others, like herself, turned inward, returning to the faith of their forebears - and for much of Louisiana, that meant The Church.

Eventually, aid **did** come, but it certainly was not due to a compassionate, responsive government. A freakish combination of churches, philanthropic groups and civic-minded celebrities formed the backbone of real post-Katrina assistance; any of the "natives" like her would readily concur. One organization in particular, CHOIR, provided relief on a scale few matched, and she, like thousands of others, was grateful. If only she'd remembered Homer's admonition about Greeks bearing gifts...

The incoming message chime on her laptop ended Jamie's introspection. Time now to focus on the serious matters at hand. The young woman quickly logged into her mailbox, frowning at the deceptively simple message:

**Family Reunion, tonight 6:00 PM PST**

"Show and tell," Jamie mumbled, tension churning her stomach. If the news she'd heard about New York was true, the situation was fast approaching critical. This was D-day... decisions had to be made, and soon. Whatever the case, by this Sunday afternoon, she had to be ready. But there was still the question of whom to choose, and who could be trusted.

Another ring came through, but this time it was her cell phone. "What **now**?" she blurted, her mood reflecting her escalating stress level. "Yes?" Her greeting was curt; she hadn't even bothered with caller ID.

At first, there was silence on the other end. "Um... if this is a bad time, I can call later..."

Her attitude shifted from annoyance to concern. _This can't be good..._ "Carl? Oh my God I'm so sorry for answering like that! I've had a... rough morning. I haven't even had my coffee yet..."

"Me neither. Wanna grab some?"

Jamie considered the offer. "Sure."

"Great! Did you want me to pick you up?"

Declining could offend him, but accepting meant she'd be effectively tied to him with no way to leave if something urgent came up - like an emergency with 'the family.' And, the lieutenant was the inquisitive type. "Um... you don't have to go out of your way on my account - "

"It's not out of my way - I do know where you live, remember? The coffee house is downtown, so I'd have to pass near you to get there anyway. And, it's the least I can do for having to cancel dinner on Friday."

Jamie could take a hint. "Since you put it that way - that'd be fine. How soon will you be here?"

"Half an hour okay?"

"That'll work." Just enough time to get herself presentable, and her thoughts in order. "See you then."

"See ya."

She couldn't help but smile as she placed her now-silent cell phone on the counter top. His brevity was actually one of the things she liked about him.

_Half an hour! Damn! _Jamie bounded for the shower. Today was indeed an important date; she had to be ready.

"So... are you a serious javanista? "

Jamie gave her driver a sideways glance. "If I could mainline it, I would. Does that answer your question?"

Carl released a hearty laugh. "I take that as a yes. For me, coffee is an occupational hazard - a necessity if you will."

"I admit, I wasn't much of a coffee drinker until I hit college. Exams stacked on top of papers makes one a quick convert."

"What college was that?"

Mentally, she gave Lieutenant Davis a plus-one in his score column. The man was always "on", and she'd be wise never to forget that. "Xavier University." She decided the best way to engage him, and, hopefully, maintain a semblance of control over the conversation, was quid pro quo. "You?"

"Morehouse College for undergraduate."

"I completed my B.A. in Sociology at Xavier, then migrated to Tulane University for my Masters work... Sociology and Anthropology," she added, trying to get ahead of his questions.

Carl whistled his approval. "Wow, Tulane - the 'Harvard of the South'. I came back home to L.A. for my advanced degree - Gould School of Law. Finished about, oh, four years ago."

"Wait... you have a Juris Doctor from U.S.C. and you're not an attorney?"

"You sound like my parents."

_Uh-oh... looks like I may have stepped in it..._ "I hope that's a good thing."

"Depends," was his cryptic response. A glance at her face prompted him to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so mysterious. It's no biggie, just family stuff."

Jamie smiled knowingly. "We all have that drama."

Quiet again overtook the car. She reclined into the soft black leather seat, the low hum of the well-tuned engine the only sound for several moments. "So," she began, finally breaking the silence, "where exactly are we going?"

"Cafe Corsa. It's one of those places we natives know about. Independent coffee house - not one of those big chain stores - and you can taste the difference, or at least I think so. Great service too. And, we are... here."

Davis expertly guided the car off Figueroa Street, into a small strip mall parking lot, surrounded on either side by quaint, brick-front businesses. Once parked, he exited and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for her. As he did so, he noticed something different... "You aren't wearing your glasses!"

"No. I only wear them for reading or when I'm on the computer - I'm a bit vain I'm afraid." Jamie smiled up at him as she extricated herself from the seat and followed him onto the sidewalk, glancing casually at the vehicle as they walked away. A black BMW, late model, nicely appointed but devoid of the ostentatious accessories which seemed to be so common in Los Angeles. _Like Carl._  
She looked him over thoughtfully. His clothes were tasteful - blue jeans, button-down shirt, leather shoes, conservative silver necklace - but nothing extravagant. Overall, it appeared as if he lived well within the fiscal means of a police lieutenant - which hopefully meant he didn't have the financial stress which would make him susceptible to bribery, all too common with civil servants who have, as her father put it, "Cadillac tastes and bicycle money." The amount of graft and outright theft by politicians and other officials that she had seen during, and after, Hurricane Katrina had made her sensitive to that trait.

Jamie's stare lingered on him longer than it should have... and she was caught. First, a look of curiosity showed on his face, then a wide smile spread across it. _Damn those doe eyes of his..._

The young woman looked away, embarrassed by her lapse in professionalism. There were serious matters to be handled today, and this was not the time for her to behave like a smitten pubescent. To her relief and gratitude, he said nothing about it, and, after a brief, awkwardly quiet stroll, the two reached the small coffee house. Again, Carl held the door to allow his female companion to enter, following closely behind.

Cafe Corsa was an attractive, if unassuming, venue, which Jamie would readily describe as "quaint," faintly reminiscent of coffee houses in the French Quarter. The interior was a combination of brick walls, dark woods and wrought iron which gave the cafe a modernized version of old world feel.  
The odor of strong, fresh coffee permeated the cozy shop. She inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma. A decent number of patrons were already leisurely enjoying their Sunday morning, a few of whom gave friendly nods to the couple as they walked by.

"Another occupational hazard," Carl explained in low tones. "Being a cop in downtown L.A. means I keep running into people I know, usually either **from** work - or **because** of work. Hope you don't mind."

Jamie simply shook her head, her mind focused on the questions she knew she needed to ask him - and on how to do so without triggering his suspicion, no easy task given his quick, well-honed instincts.

A few minutes, and coffee orders later, Jamie and Carl were seated at one of the bar tables in front of the shop's expansive bay window, hands wrapped around large, steaming mugs of coffee. She decided to take the bull by the horns. "Why did you want to meet, Carl? I mean, I know we didn't get to go out Friday night, but I get the impression it's something else..."

"Can't get anything by you, can I?" Davis squinted out the bay window at the street scene for a moment, before leaning across the table toward her to quietly admit, "It's this case... I can't talk to just anyone about it. I can talk to you because you work for Talbot." His expression softened. "I hope that's okay. I mean, it **is** your weekend, and..."

Jamie smiled encouragingly. "No problem, Carl. I understand. I mean, sometimes you need to 'talk shop' - even on a Sunday morning." For her purposes, jumping right into this conversation was advantageous, though there **was** a niggling sense of disappointment that she did her best to ignore. "So, what's going on? I haven't heard anything about this - I got the distinct impression Talbot wanted to talk to you and St. John first."

Carl blew on his coffee before cautiously venturing a sip. "The case involves a string of murders along the U.S. - Mexico border, in San Diego. So far, we know that some border agents were killed, along with suspected illegal immigrants. The M.O. is pretty grisly." He paused, turning his spoon round and round in his coffee, as if stalling for time, before looking up. "Decapitation and burning. Some of the victims include... children."

The young woman closed her eyes as if that would help to block out the disturbing image the words created. "Oh my God..."

The lieutenant cursed himself silently. Helluva way to make up for canceling Friday's date. "Look, Jamie, I'm... I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about this- ."

A hand over his stayed any further apologies. "I said I understand, and I do." She smiled with what she hoped was encouragement.  
Emboldened, Carl continued. "Anyway, Talbot wanted to talk this case over with Mick St. John and me. I have to admit, the details bothered us - beheadings, some of the bodies burned to ash..."

"Ash?"

"Yeah. It has all the earmarks of a drug gang. My gut tells me it's the same one responsible for the hit on Josh Lindsey - but I need more evidence to make sure. I'm betting that we are going to take a trip."

"'We' meaning?"

"Mick and I. Not sure yet if anyone else would go at this time; at best, we'd be on a fact-finding expedition."

"And, what do you think of St. John being involved?"

Carl eyed Jamie curiously. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "Well, I just met him last week, and he seemed really nice. Beth doesn't like talking about him, though. I know private investigators and independent contractors are not brought into police activities routinely, so I figured he must either be really good or have great connections because he just always seems involved with the DA's office somehow."

"Yeah, doesn't he," Carl replied dryly.

"Is that why Ben doesn't like him? Not that he's said anything specific to me, but it's the impression I get from him."  
Davis sighed. He thought back to Talbot's discussion of the Josh-Beth-Mick triangle. That had to be at least a factor in the ADA's animosity towards St. John. He'd found it distasteful; definitely not something he would discuss with Jamie or anyone else. And, it certainly wasn't the only reason Talbot was coming after Mick. "Quite honestly, Jamie, I'm not sure **why** he doesn't like St. John." _But I'm going to find out._

"Do you have any idea where this is coming from?"

"I wish I knew. Josh was that way in the beginning too. You didn't know Josh Lindsey, did you?"

Jamie shook her head. "No, that was before my time."

"Well, I'm sure you've heard that he was the Deputy District Attorney who was murdered by the H.E.M. drug cartel a while back - and he was Beth's boyfriend. They'd been together for about a year when it happened." Davis paused for a moment, thinking back to the events that led up to Josh's tragic death.  
He fiddled with his coffee mug, stirring the brew over and over again. He wasn't proud of his part in all that and hesitated to share it with the attractive woman across the table from him.  
_Just stick to the facts, Davis. _"Anyway, Josh first brought Mick in on a case when he suspected a leak in his department - and, St. John did a great job, risked his life to bring the witness in safely. Then, after that, he just seemed to always be around when we were working a case - usually with Beth. So, naturally, Josh wasn't overly fond of him. It got pretty... tense... a few times."

Jamie considered what Carl had said, noting his unease. "Really? Do you think there is any connection with Ben not liking Mick? And," she sipped her coffee before continuing, "is the so-called 'tension' with Josh the reason why Beth doesn't talk about Mick in the office?"

"I don't know, Jamie. I try real hard to stay out of all these office dramas. I **do **know that Josh had asked Mick to help protect Beth from the drug ring right before he was kidnapped, so he must have come to some kind of understanding with him. And..." he stopped, swallowing hard as he dredged up images from that terrible day. "...and, I watched Mick try like hell to save Josh when he was shot. Believe me, if it had been humanly possible to save his life, St. John would have done it. As far as why Ben doesn't like Mick? I'm just guessing, but I'd say it's probably a case of two big dogs trying to piss on the same tree."  
He caught himself. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that to you; it's not polite." His expression was contrite.

She laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'm the only girl in the pack of Sommers kids - all older brothers, mind you. Trust me, I've heard and seen it all - girls sneaking in and out of the house, conversations about who did what with whom in glorious graphic detail - you'd really have to go some to shock me."

"Thanks." He reached over and squeezed her hand gratefully. "There's really no excuse, though. I wasn't raised to talk that way in front of a lady. It won't happen again. Now, where was I? Oh, right. Ben and Mick. I probably shouldn't be saying this to you..."

"Come on, don't stop now!" she protested. _Don't stop holding my hand either._ "You can't leave me hanging like this!"

Carl sipped his coffee, stalling for time. _You need to talk to __**someone **__about this. _He made a decision. "Okay, but this doesn't leave the table, all right? I mean it, Jamie." He waited for her response, one pair of brown eyes boring into the other.

She nodded slowly - that intense stare made it exceedingly hard to think straight. "You have no idea the secrets I've had to keep."

"Well, **that** certainly sounds intriguing. Next time, I get to ask the questions!" He smiled briefly, then sighed and put down his now-empty mug, pushing it away from him. "Okay, here's the deal. I don't know why, but I think Ben has a vendetta against Mick St. John. At the very least, he's definitely got a burr in his butt about him."  
He hesitated, then continued. _Tell her all of it._ "He showed me a file he has on Mick, with some... interesting... pictures. And, he wants me to work this case with him partly to keep an eye on him, see what I can find out. I don't know what's going on - but I don't like it."

"Pictures? What kind of pictures?" Though she'd seen the images, Jamie still did not know their origin, or anything else that could put them in context. She wanted - and needed - that information.  
"I - " Carl stopped and shook his head. "Sorry Jamie, I just don't feel comfortable with sharing that information right now. I don't really know if they could be evidence in a case - or **what **Talbot might have planned for them. I hope you understand."  
It wasn't the answer she had hoped for, but Jamie realized she was in no position to push the issue right now without raising suspicions with her companion. She considered her options before asking thoughtfully, "How do **you **feel about all this? What are **your **impressions of St. John and Talbot?"

"**Me?**" He straightened, staring unblinkingly at her. "I think Mick St. John is a straight-up guy who was in love with Beth Turner long before Josh was killed - and I think he's got a big secret."

His bluntness shocked Jamie; it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. "Wow, don't hold back, Carl! Tell me what you really think!" The comment made him laugh, diminishing the tension, as she had hoped it would. She plied him with more questions. "What do you think his secret is? Does it have anything to do with Beth?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea what's going on with Mick, it's just a sense I have that he's carrying something around. As far as whether it has anything to do with Beth, I don't know... **yet**."

The emphasis on the word 'yet' did not escape her attention. _Get him to focus on Talbot._ "Well, since we're being honest, it's my turn." She took another drink. "I don't think Talbot trusts **her**, either."

Davis shook his head. "I agree with you. But, then I don't think he trusts **anybody**. That's how ambitious people are, they think everyone is like them. And he strikes me as **very **ambitious. I'm sure he doesn't trust **me** either." He smiled ruefully. "See why I don't like to get involved in office politics? It's a quagmire."

"Unfortunately, since he's one of the attorneys I primarily support, the best I can do is duck the crap as it flies overhead," she admitted freely. "Still doesn't explain his attitude toward Beth - she seems really nice and straightforward to me. Please keep this to yourself, but I **do **think it's because she's with Mick."

"That could be; Ben's a hard one to read. And there's no question that Mick St. John rubs him the wrong way. Just be careful though, Jamie. I don't know what Talbot's agenda is and I'd hate to see you get dragged into whatever he has planned."

"What about **you**? Isn't he dragging you into it by trying to get you to spy on Mick?"

He winced. _She has a point._ "Spy may be too harsh a word for it - but I - I'm really not sure how to answer that. I **am** sure, though, that if I don't do it, he'll just find someone else. At least I feel like I can be objective - and I won't let Ben conduct a witch hunt. I don't know everything there is to know about Mick St. John, but I **do** know he doesn't deserve **that**."

His voice was firm and, looking at his face, jaw set and eyes deadly serious. Jamie did not doubt his resolve. _I could really get to likin' this man. _She couldn't resist touching him again."So, what happens next, Carl?"

"I guess I go work this case with Mick... and I keep my eyes and ears open." He laid his free hand over hers as it rested on his forearm. "Thank you for listening, Jamie. This wasn't exactly a fun morning for you. I hope at least the coffee was good."

"The coffee - and the company - were excellent," Jamie responded firmly. She reached for his hand again; this time, she didn't let go.

Carl had to admit he was, without question, drawn to this lady. All the same, despite her charm, and his admitted attraction, Jamie Sommers was a mystery - one he intended to solve.

* * *

_I'll be glad when this fucking thing is over_, Gabrielle thought, wandering from guest to guest - with one exception. Victoria's spacious study left sufficient maneuvering room for her to avoid Hugo Scanlin.

Gabby had as little contact with her sire as possible - and planned to keep it that way, no matter what happened tonight. She had done her job, contacting the key members of the New York City vampire community to invite them to the Sunday evening gathering, and they were all here tonight - including Hugo, who received his invitation via e-mail rather, than in person. The rest was in Victoria's hands.

The whole situation, however, made her jumpy, especially since she felt like they were on their own, isolated. Not for the first time, she reminded herself, _I have to get Victoria to call Josef when we're done. _Even if Kostan and St. John were too far away to be of any real assistance from a practical standpoint, she would still feel like **someone **had their back in case something went wrong.

"So, where is your 'boss', little one?" Hugo planted himself in front of her, surprising her out of her reverie.

"Don't call me that, Hugo!" she snapped, moving to pass around him. He moved with her, again blocking her path. "This isn't funny." She glared up at him, eyes flashing blue-white as she bared her fangs.

"No. No, it isn't... Gabrielle. Is that better?" He leaned in, towering over the petite vampire. "What is this all about? Another waste of my time?" Without waiting for her to respond, he added with a growl, "I'm growing very weary of this grandstanding and posturing... and I'm not the only one. You would serve your 'master' well to tell her that." He watched her bristle at the term, then, having delivered his message, he stepped to one side, giving her a quick - and unexpected - peck on the cheek as she passed by.

Gabrielle snarled at the unwelcome familiarity, eyes glittering, but restrained her urge to jump on him and sink her teeth into his neck. Victoria would not be pleased if she made a scene - especially if it were with Hugo Scanlin. _Master - ha! _She knew he used that term just to irritate her. _And, it worked... _

Sighing to herself, she sat down on a love seat and thought again, _I'll be __**really**__ glad when this fucking thing is over…_

**Continued at Capeandsaber (.com)**

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	15. Chapter 13, Truths, extended version

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence.

**Chapter 13, Truths synopsis:**

_Repercussions from Logan and Ryder's hacking of the Renaissance intranet system continue, with one individual paying the ultimate price, as the investigation into Sarah Whitley's death continues. _

_At the Los Angeles District Attorney's office, Jamie Sommers watches ADA Talbot pull both Beth Turner and Mick St. John into cases with far-reaching implications for each. Disturbing discoveries drive Beth to a desperate act, with unintended consequences._

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The complete chapter, running approximately 30 pages, can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music and videos. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. (Pretty please?)**

_Chapter 13_

_**Truths**_

_Intro song:_

"The Great Escape" by Boys Like Girls

Squaring his shoulders inside the ill-fitting brown suit, Sean Reynolds took several deep breaths and walked into Judy Albert's office for their agreed-upon meeting. He had been oblivious to the beautiful Monday morning weather during his commute to work as he went over and over the speech he intended to make to her.

Mixed in with the dread of facing his boss was a sense of exhilaration. He had never quit a job before. Any previous job changes came about as a result of his positions being either eliminated or 'downsized' - the new millennium's euphemism for screwing the low man on the totem pole.

After his failure to capture the identity of the hackers to the Renaissance intranet system, despite the IT security measures he had put in place for them, he had been apprehensive about possible repercussions from the clandestine group that had hired him.

John had assured him, however, that they were not displeased with his work, and would take the necessary steps to apprehend the interlopers. In the meantime, he had talked about other opportunities within the organization and dangled the carrot of robust payoffs in front of him, a morsel that Sean found particularly appetizing.

"It'll mean you'll have to give up your job with Renaissance and move to Chicago," Giles had warned.

"I'm okay with that!" Sean had no ties to this city – no family, few friends…no one who would miss him if he were to leave. New York City held no special magic for him – rent was high, people were unfriendly, competition was cutthroat. The prospect of moving from the Big Apple did not trouble him in the least. _Good riddance!_

Now that the reality of resigning and starting a new life in Chicago was staring him in the face, he felt a rush of adrenaline. It was about time he had some adventure in his life. Meeting John Giles in that bar had been one of the more fortunate coincidences of his life…and his phone conversation with him on his ride in to work that morning had confirmed that he was on Sean's side. Hadn't Giles reiterated that again and again?

"Sean, we need people like you in our organization. You know how it is - older business people just aren't comfortable with new technology. Hell, my boss still uses an old rotary dial phone on his desk! So, anything you do will seem like **magic** to them. You can help bring us into the 21st century and that, in turn, will make us more effective. Personally, I cannot wait to get you out of here."

Reynolds had responded to this praise, his ego swelling as Giles' comments seemed to reinforce what he had always secretly believed - that he deserved more than life had given him thus far. Chicago awaited him, with promises of money, respect...

With a sigh, Sean brought himself back to the present – and the woman on the other side of the desk.

"Sean, I hope this whole situation didn't completely ruin your weekend." Judy's brown eyes were kind and he could almost believe that she cared about his well-being.

"No, I'm fine, Judy. I just came in for a while on Saturday. It didn't take me long to figure out what happened." That much was certainly true.

"So, update me, Sean. What the hell **did** happen?"

"It still isn't clear to me how this occurred, but what **is** clear is that there were at least two hackers into our intranet system. That's the bad news. The good news is that patient and personnel records seem to be secure – whatever they were after, it wasn't in those areas. I'm guessing they were looking for information on our network or reimbursement."

Judy heaved a sigh of relief – the confidentiality of their clients was her biggest concern. "Could you come up with any information about the identity of these… hackers?"

_First John, now you_. "No, unfortunately, they were quick – and smart. No traceable information that I can find. But… one more piece of good news, Judy. It appears that this was the first time these people – whoever they are – broke into our system. I went back a full year and there's no evidence that they ever accessed our intranet before."

"That **is **good news, Sean." Judy smiled for the first time since their meeting on Friday. "So, what needs to happen next? I'm going to have to give a full report to the Board and I want to include what updates and enhancements we will make to ensure that this does not happen again."

"Well, there's the problem, Judy." She looked at him questioningly and opened her mouth as if to speak, so he rushed on. "I've done everything I know how to do. For whatever reason, Renaissance seems to be a target for Internet espionage. Now, I'm good at what I know how to do – routine stuff like systems set-ups, records, basic interface… things like that."

He hesitated. It was now or never. "I don't know how to protect you against threats like this – I never imagined we would need to. I think I'm doing you a disservice by holding this position with these kinds of issues hanging over your head. So…I'm resigning."

"No, Sean! This wasn't your fault, we'll work it out!" Judy's protests covered her relief. If Sean resigned, admitting his responsibility in all this, she had a scapegoat to present to the Board. _Then I'm off the hook. _She was immediately ashamed of the thought. "I think you're being premature about this."

"I don't, Judy. You and I both know that the Board is gonna demand someone's head for this. Better that it be mine…hell, it **should** be mine. This was my job, **my **responsibility. You shouldn't suffer for my mistakes – I won't let you."

He stood up and laid a neatly-typed letter of resignation on her desk. "Give me a half-hour to pack my things up and I'll be out of your hair."

She stared blankly down at the paper in front of her, as if she had somehow forgotten how to read. The morning light streamed through the windows behind her, highlighting her silvery-gray hair with a diffuse glow. When she looked up at him, Sean felt a brief pang of guilt – her face was pained, eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over. She **did **care about him.

Trying to make her feel better, he added hurriedly, "In a way, I'm actually kind of glad this happened, Judy. It's a good, swift kick-in-the-pants for me to get working on my Master's, get the kind of information and training I need to be really successful in this field. As a matter of fact, I'm going to Chicago to do just that."  
He grinned with what he hoped was a winning smile. "Will you give me a good recommendation if I need it?"

"Of course I will, Sean. You don't have to ask, you know that." She got up and moved around the desk to give him a hug. "I hope you're serious about this being a good opportunity – otherwise, I'm going to be up nights, worrying about you."

"Swear to God, Judy." He made a sign of the cross over his heart. "This is going to change my life, I promise you."

His step was jaunty as he left the office.

An hour later, Reynolds was bustling around his apartment, finishing his packing and making arrangements to stop utilities and mail.

He thought about letting his landlord know he was leaving, but decided against it. As far as he was concerned, he could find out he no longer had a tenant when his next month's rent failed to show up. They had tangled from time to time over what he saw as needed repairs – and his landlord saw as needless nitpicking. The idea of leaving that penny pincher high and dry was satisfying, to say the least.

Sean was impressed with his own sudden change in attitude – no longer would he be Sean Reynolds, geeky pushover. _This is the new me!_ He decided he would put this new, improved version of himself to the test when John arrived, pushing him to divulge information about the assignment in Chicago he had promised.

And, if John didn't want to tell him, well…he would just refuse to take 'no' for an answer.  
"You tell him, Sean!" he crowed to the empty room, imagining his new-found confidence gaining him access to the inner circle of the mysterious organization that had hired him, an opportunity to rub elbows with powerful men.

Pounding on the door brought him back to the present with a start. Hurrying over to peer through the peephole, he saw John Giles' countenance, glowering at the door. He quickly unlocked both deadbolts and removed the chain, throwing the door open.

"Jeez, Sean! You afraid of the bogey man or something?" Giles squeezed by him to stomp into the apartment, coming to a stop in the middle of the small, shabby living room. The expression on his face as he looked around at the cheap furnishings, his upper lip curled in distaste, was that of a person forced to eat an exceptionally sour pickle.

Reynolds caught the look on his face and bristled. His apartment décor was heavily weighted toward IKEA in the mistaken belief that the minimalist look provided an air of sophistication. Where he saw class, however, Giles saw cheap desperation.

"Nice to see you too, John. Won't you come in?" Sean strained to put just the right note of sarcasm in his voice. _Remember – this is the new you! _Nervously, he reached up to push his glasses back into place on his nose, conscious of the irritating habit they had of sliding down when he perspired. _Maybe I'll have LASIK surgery once I get going on this new job for them_, he thought absently.

The work John's organization had him perform here was extremely lucrative. If, as John seemed to imply, his responsibilities in Chicago would be even greater, it stood to reason that, so too would the compensation. Then, he could afford luxuries like LASIK – and better furniture. Dammit, he would make **sure** he was well-paid – wasn't he a valuable asset to the corporation? _Something else I need to push him about…_

He opened his mouth to bring up Chicago, but John surprised him by beating him to it. "So! Sean! You ready for your big adventure? How did it go with your boss? Ex-boss, I should say, I guess – right?" He smiled at the younger man, waiting expectantly for his reply.

The sudden change in attitude from testy to friendly caught Reynolds off-guard for a moment. "Uh, well…it went okay." He fumbled his words. "I mean – I could tell she was relieved that I resigned. I'm sure she'll use me as the scapegoat with her board of directors."

He shrugged. "Of course, I couldn't care less – I'm glad to get out of that dead-end job anyway. It was sucking the life out of me, just like I told you when we first met. I'm ready to move on with you and your team, John."

_You mean when I first reeled you in_. "Good, good, that's good, Sean." Giles practically beamed, his lined face looking uncomfortable with a smile plastered on it. "No questions from her about anything related to the security system those people talked about with her?"

"She was upset that I hadn't been able to identify the hackers. _Just like you were._ But, she never asked about the system itself. I don't think she believed what those two told her; after all, she'd never seen them before and they pressured her pretty hard, I think. So, no - nothing that would bring them back to me – I mean, to us."

"What did she tell you about them? Did she give you any more information about whoever came to see her?" The questions were coming hard and fast now. Giles suspected that it was the same two vampires that came to question him but, so far, Judy Albert had been tight-lipped with Sean about her visitors.

"N-no, nothing. I would have asked if I'd known you needed more information, but you didn't mention it before I saw her…" Reynolds trailed off, looking anxiously at his meal ticket out of New York.

"Did she ask you if **you** were involved at all?"

"Wha-? **No**! I'm sure she doesn't suspect anything. I kind of planted the idea that it was probably competitors, looking for information about our pricing or our network. She jumped all over that," he added proudly. _That was a stroke of genius!_

"Good, Sean! That was great thinking on your feet – just the kind of thing we need in our organization." Giles clapped him on the back as he spoke.

"Speaking of that, John… I'd like to talk about my next steps – my assignment in Chicago."

Giles frowned, his hand freezing on Reynold's shoulder. "Having second thoughts, Sean?"

"No! Nothing could be further from the truth!" His response was hasty, not at all the confident attitude he was striving for. "I'm just anxious to get started, that's all. And…" Sean swallowed hard and started again. "And, I think I deserve to know what my assignment will be and how much I'll be paid now that I'm going to be a full-time member of the organization."

He fell silent, shifting uneasily under Giles' silent scrutiny. Had he gone too far with his new-found assertiveness?

The older man surprised him again, however, suddenly smiling and squeezing his shoulder gently before dropping his hand. "Of course you do. That's reasonable. I'd want to know if I were in your shoes. Tell you what – you're almost packed, right?"

Giles waited for the nod of confirmation from his companion before proceeding. "Okay, then, good! I can fill you in on the way to the airport. We'll have plenty of time since it'll be rush hour."

Seeing the questions forming in Reynold's eyes, John finished. "I have a seat reserved on one of our corporate jets going to Chicago. You may as well get used to traveling in style, Sean, because that's what being part of this organization means – style, power, influence…and money. You can live with that, right?"

The dumpy young man nodded enthusiastically, his unruly curls bobbing on his head. This was going better than he had expected!

"Look," Giles continued. "This is the voice of experience speaking here. When it comes to packing quickly, especially when you've lived in one place for a while, you'll want to go take one last look around. Make sure you have everything you need. And, be sure you have everything that might have your name or identification on it, packed or thrown away – old bills, magazine subscriptions, you name it. Don't want your landlord to get hold of anything like that, from everything you've told me about him." _Thank god I won't have to listen to any more whining about the landlord from this twerp. I think I'd rather slit my own wrists and let a vampire feed off me, than hear about __**that **__again! _

"Good idea!" Sean exclaimed, bustling around the small apartment, sweeping random papers and magazines into the trash bag he held. "So, you've been working for these guys for quite a while now, right?" he called over his shoulder as he hurried into his bedroom.

"Yep, for quite a few years." Giles strolled casually toward the bedroom door the younger man had vanished through. "Been working my way up in the organization. I'm pretty – ah – committed to their mission." He fingered the unusual medallion he wore on a long silver chain around his neck – a symbol that matched the tattoo on his right forearm, hidden under his long-sleeved dress shirt.

Poking his head through the doorway, he saw that Reynolds had already moved on to the bathroom, trash bag still in hand. He was checking the prescription bottles still stacked in the medicine cabinet, apparently trying to decide which allergy medication he might need in his new home.

"You won't need any of those, Sean. Toss them."

Reynolds snorted. "Clearly you haven't been around me during ragweed season, John. I don't think Chicago is devoid of allergens. I **definitely **need these."

"Trust me – you don't."

Something in his tone sent a cold chill down Sean's spine. He turned toward the bathroom door, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the look in Giles' eyes. He licked his suddenly dry lips and stammered out a question. "I- is something wrong, John?"

"No, Sean. Not a thing. What would be wrong?" The older man's thin lips pulled back from his teeth in what was more a grimace than a smile.

"Th- then why did you tell me I won't need my medicine?" Reynolds wasn't quite sure he wanted to know the answer, but couldn't stop himself from asking the question nonetheless.

Giles shrugged. "Sorry if I sounded impatient, Sean. I just want to get going, that's all. It may be a chartered plane, but they still have to file a flight plan, which means we have a deadline. Take all those meds if you like - probably better if you do anyway. I just meant that we'll get you anything you need when you land."

Sean relaxed, scolding himself as he pocketed one bottle of pills and swept the rest into the trash bag. _You are an idiot, Sean. Don't let your nerves get in the way of the sweetest deal you're ever likely to get._  
"Okay, I think I've got everything from the bathroom then."

"Can we get the hell out of here, then?" Giles was obviously in no mood for a trip down memory lane, so after one last look around, Sean picked up a suitcase and the trash bag full of items bearing his name, and almost shouted, "Let's go then."

Giles winced, his already narrow eyes tightening into slits. "Christ, Sean, we aren't a bunch of girl scouts going on an overnight camping trip! Tone it down, would you?" Then, he continued in a milder tone, "You sure you've got everything you need?"

"Yes, I believe so." Reynolds, thoroughly chastened by Giles' comments, tried for a more subdued tone.

"Let's go, then." Giles clapped his hand on the other man's back. "Say goodbye to all this... luxury." He gestured around the small apartment. Reynolds just shook his head and headed for the door, suitcase and trash bag in hand.

When they reached the sidewalk, John took the bag from Sean and gestured toward a sleek black limousine parked at the curb. "Go ahead and get in - get used to your new life. I'll take care of this for you."

Reynolds was so impressed by the car and driver waiting to take him to the airport that he didn't notice Giles toss the trash bag into the trunk of the car with his suitcase, instead of putting it in the bin that stood by the curb.

Giles shut the trunk and wiped his hands on a handkerchief. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he glanced around to make sure no one had noticed his actions. The street was almost deserted, the few pedestrians hurrying along with their heads down in typical New York fashion. To make eye contact was to invite a request for money, or solicitation... or worse.

_Damn, I love New York_, he thought, not for the first time. If a person wanted to walk on the shady side of the law, there were few towns better suited for it.

He got in the car and took the seat facing the rear of the car where Sean sat, reaching up to rap on the Plexiglas divider to get the driver's attention as he did so. The car started off, weaving rapidly through the mid-day traffic.

Closing his eyes, Sean sank back in the plush seat. _Welcome to your new life, Sean, old buddy. _He smiled to himself at the thought.

"Something funny?"

Reynolds opened his eyes to see Giles sitting directly across from him, facing the rear, his body swaying slightly with the car's movement as it picked up speed, heading out of the city. He was holding a gun pointed directly at him, his lined face impassive.

Sean's eyes grew huge behind his heavy glasses as his brain scrambled to comprehend what it saw and formulate a plan. _Run! _The thought screamed through his head much too late to do him any good.

He looked frantically around the limo's interior - it had seemed so spacious just a few moments ago and now it felt tiny, claustrophobic. Somehow, he hoped a magical doorway would appear and give him an avenue of escape. Nothing! He was trapped inside the small space.

Returning his panicked gaze to Giles, who sat almost casually holding the gun, he moved into a state of denial. _This must be some mistake… this isn't happening…_ Licking his suddenly dry lips, he stammered, "Wha-wha-what's going on, John? Is this some kind of initiation? Are you trying to scare me or something?" _Because, if you are, it's working._

"No, nothing like that, Sean." Giles' voice was soft, almost serene, as he patiently explained to the panic-stricken man, "I'm sorry, but you aren't allowed any mistakes in Crucis – and you had a **very **big one on your first job. I wish things could be different... but I'm afraid I have to kill you." His tone clearly said he wasn't sorry in the least. "I do want to thank you for cleaning up after yourself though."

All the younger man heard was the word 'kill'. It reverberated through his brain, bouncing wildly off the walls of his skull like a racquetball on a court. _Kill, no he didn't say that, you just misunderstood, Sean, people only do this shit in the movies, you're only twenty-six, you've never been to Europe, you've only been laid five times in your whole __**life**__, for crying out loud!_

The thoughts were a runaway train in his head, barreling along, picking up reasons why he should live – why he **needed** to live – as if they were passengers at stations along the route. It wasn't fair! _All this over some fucking nurse? _

He made the mistake of voicing this last thought out loud, cutting his life short by several seconds. Giles' eyes grew hard and tight at the statement, and his finger tightened on the trigger of the gun he raised level with Sean's eyes.

"That fucking nurse is my wife," he said coldly, and pulled the trigger, the silencer on the gun making a tinny, high-pitched sound as it went off.

The last thing Sean Reynolds saw, as his bladder and bowels let loose, was what seemed to be an enormous black hole that spouted flame. It was like looking into the depths of hell.

_I guess I'll never make it to six..._

And then…nothing.

* * *

Christophe Durand had always had a faculty for getting inside the heads of others; at the seminary he attended before a series of unfortunate events led to his ouster, his fellow seminarians often avoided him for that reason. They claimed he could 'read' them, like a psychic.

He knew that Crucis underlings often referred to him behind his back as 'Haley Joel' after the young actor who had played the haunted boy in the movie 'The Sixth Sense', implying that Durand could see things others could not.

He hated the nickname.

In his mind, there was nothing magical or spooky about what he did - it was simply a matter of paying attention and keeping one's internal antennae attuned to what was going on around them. And…his antennae told him that Giles was off his game. Whether it was because Giles' wife was now attending to Crucis business in Chicago, or because he was uncertain about the ongoing state of affairs in New York City, he could not be sure.

The appearance of the Los Angeles vampires and their subsequent poking around at New York Medical and Renaissance Home Health was not an unexpected development. With the long connection of Josef Kostan - previously, Charles Fitzgerald - to Sarah Whitley, it had been anticipated. _And __**should **__have been planned for._

Hadn't John Whitley warned him of just such a possibility as Kostan showing up in New York? The wily old man had foreseen this eventuality, but he had thought it would be because of the attempt on Kostan's life that he had orchestrated. What Whitley **hadn't **known was that his daughter - or at least his daughter's body - had still been alive.

Durand had discovered the existence of Sarah Whitley when Kostan and St. John came to New York months before, but he had seen no reason to alert the old man to that. It would just have made problems with the wealthy man's will - and Crucis needed the Whitley millions to pursue their objectives. He had kept his counsel until Whitley died, indifferent to the thought that the dying man might have wanted to see his daughter once more.

The explosion at the brownstone housing Sarah Whitley's body had taken care of that loose end, and had served as an enticement to bring Josef Kostan back to New York City - a development he had discussed at length with Giles.

A golden opportunity to eliminate the leaders of two of the largest vampire colonies in the country in one fell swoop had slipped through their fingers. Instead, they had not even been able to finally rid themselves of Silver as planned. Quick action by the private investigator vampire who had accompanied Kostan had, it appeared, saved her life. A crucial linchpin in the plan to eliminate the New York City vampire community had been missed. _This Mick St. John needs to be dealt with. _

Christophe scowled at his phone as he mulled over his most recent conversation with John Giles. Durand was inclined to believe that Rebecca Bledsoe was the cause of Giles' recent ineffectiveness, but it really didn't matter. What **did** matter was getting Giles refocused on his work. They were at a critical point in the operations in New York and John was an integral part of the effort. Besides, the reality was... he had bungled a good opportunity - there had to be consequences.

"Vivas oportet de consequenti actus tuos," he intoned quietly. _You must live with the consequences of your actions, John._

With a grimace, he thumbed a number, the display showing a 312 area code. _Damn, I hate cell phones_. This was not a call he wanted to make on his office line, however.

"Yes. This is Durand. I have a job for you…"

* * *

Mick St. John yawned and stood up from his desk, stretching to work out the kinks that spending time hunched over the computer always generated. Even vampires were not immune to that. His body told him, in no uncertain terms, that he needed to be in his freezer. First, though...

Rubbing tiredly at his temples, he punched in the number for Logan Griffen. _If he's gone off to sleep already, I swear I'll... _Fortunately, he did not have to complete the thought as Logan answered on the second ring, his voice sounding as tired as Mick felt.

"Hello, Mick, I figured you'd call me before you hit the freezer."

"Pretty safe bet on that one, Logan. Please tell me you and Ryder have found out where this nurse went when she left New York City."

The confusion generated by the multiple plane tickets purchased in Rebecca Bledsoe's name was weighing heavily on the P.I. Just the fact that she had purchased numerous tickets set off alarm bells - no sane, innocent person would do something like that. _We need to find this woman..._

_**For the complete Chapter 13, Truths, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

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	16. Chapter 14, Consequences

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence – and this time, we really mean it!

**Chapter 14, Consequences synopsis:**

**_Mick must deal with a disturbing situation in San Diego - and Beth's meddling - while attempting to piece together clues to the New York case. Victoria and Gabrielle move ahead with their plan to draw out Crucis by using Gabby's sire as a decoy, with violent results._**

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****(Pretty please? We'd love to know what you think!)**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Consequences**

**Intro Song:**

_**Matchbox 20, Bed of Lies**_

_**The live link to this music is available in the chapter at capeandsaber  
**_

"MICK!" Beth almost screamed, startled to come face-to-face with the angry presence of her lover. "I didn't see you there!" The look on his face unnerved her. "So - how did your meeting go?" she asked uneasily, refusing to meet his eyes.

"What meeting would you be referring to, Beth?" His voice was even and controlled, but his eyes flashed sparks at her.

_Crap!_ She was now on alert. Everything about him bespoke anger held in check - but aimed at her. He didn't have to say it. She wasn't new to relationships, and - vampire or not - this man was pissed. Still, she hoped that she could deflect it somehow. "Your meeting with Talbot and Carl, of course. What else would I be referring to?" _Stay calm. _

He snorted in disgust. "You know, deviousness does not become you, Beth - and you aren't very good at it. The meeting with Talbot and Carl was fine. My meeting with **Josef** however... that was a little different."

Beth's already pale skin went alabaster, except for her cheeks which were now alarmingly red. "Josef? What... what's going on with him now?"

He leaned up against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans, crossing his long legs at the ankle while he watched her struggle with herself, the rapid thud of her heart pounding steadily in his ears.

"Why don't **you** tell **me**? After all, you went to see him today too."

Beth opened her mouth to protest. Try as she might, words would not form.

He leaned forward. "What's that, Beth? Can't hear you."

"Look, Mick," she began, "I... I just wanted his advice... I needed to... to talk." Her excuse sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"You needed to talk. It feels to me more like you needed to **conspire**." His tone was icy.

"What did you say?" Now she was starting to get angry.

"**Conspire**, Beth. I'm pretty sure you know the meaning of that word. I walked into an ambush at Josef's today!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded. "What 'ambush'?"

"Do **not** make this worse by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about! You know very well, it's about my going to San Diego to work this case! "

Her purse dropped to the floor as she jabbed her fists on her hips in indignation."So, it's an **ambush** now when someone disagrees with you? Tries to talk some **sense** into you?"

"**No**! It's an **ambush** when the person who is supposed to be on my side goes behind my back to my friend because she doesn't like the answer she got. Sound familiar?" Mick could feel his temper rising and fought to control it. Every time he thought of the scene at Josef's that afternoon, however, he got angry all over again.

Beth was not backing down. "I went to your friend because you actually seem to **listen **to him - unlike me, whom you completely dismiss!"

"We **talked **about this, but because it didn't turn out the way you wanted, you went to Josef about it. You were like a child who didn't get what you wanted from one parent, so you went running to the other one!" He edged away from the wall, holding himself in check, his arms still tightly folded across his chest.

"Oh, so **that's** it!" she gloated. "You think you're my daddy or something? I grew up just fine without one - and I sure as **hell** don't need one **now**. I went to Josef because, somehow, he is able to get through all those layers of fat between your ears and actually make you **listen** sometimes!"

"Look! Just because I knew you as a child doesn't mean I think I'm a father figure! But, **mature **adults work out their differences without calling in outside interference! You and I talked about this, but we don't agree! And, that's **it**, end of story!" He finally unfolded his arms, waving them to emphasize his point.

"WHAT?" She closed in on him, her index finger right in front of his face. "END OF STORY? I'm sorry Mick, but I thought this was a relationship. That means that you have to **hear me -** at least once in a while! You dismissed my concerns and my fears as if they were **nothing**, because you don't agree. WHEN THE HELL DO I GET TO MATTER HERE?"

Mick couldn't help it. He reached out and grabbed the offending finger waving in his face, refusing to let go when she tugged on it. "Dammit, Beth, you matter! Of **course** you matter to me - more than **anything**! But, that doesn't mean I'm going to always do what you say or what you want! I **didn't** dismiss your concerns, but I'm not going to stay here and hide under the bed just to be SAFE!"

He could hear his voice getting louder the longer he talked, but he felt helpless to control it. Damn, she could make him mad!

His touch tempered her anger, but raised her anxiety.

"I know who I'm with, Mick. I know you're never going to play it safe, or hide. But dammit, you **do** have to use common sense. Your going to a DESERT, especially at the behest of TALBOT, makes no damned sense whatsoever! Hell, why don't you just make this quick and go to a tanning salon? Then I won't have to wonder what's happening to you!" She set her jaw. If it was a fight he wanted, she was not going to disappoint.

_She's just worried about me, she doesn't mean to interfere. _Mick kept telling himself that, over and over like a mantra while he fought to maintain control. It wasn't working. "Beth, for the last time, I'm not doing this stupidly or randomly. I need to go - it's my job, like it or not."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, Mick St. John! NO! It is not your job... Josef didn't tell me -" She halted mid-sentence, realizing that those words were a mistake as soon as they fell out of her mouth.

"OH! So, now it's all coming back to you, huh?" He towered over her as he glared down into her face. "Care to share the conversation, Beth? Just in case I didn't get all the facts straight from Josef.

Beth didn't know whether to laugh or cry, though she did add 'staking Josef' near the top of her 'to-do' list.

Mick took advantage of the silence to push harder. "Come on, I'm anxious to hear it."

She silently counted to ten, keeping in mind that this was an infuriated vampire she was dealing with. "I went to talk to Josef because of what I found out about the San Diego case today," she admitted. "Ash, Mick? Decapitations? The HEM Brotherhood? You remember them, don't you - the ones who murdered Josh? I was scared out of my mind! And you weren't listening to me. So... I went to talk to Josef because I didn't know what else to do!"

"You could have come to **me**, Beth!" He stabbed his finger toward his chest for emphasis. "That's what couples do - they talk to one another. And, yes, I know about all that. That's EXACTLY why I have to go! I explained this to you before!" He realized he was still grasping her forefinger and released it reluctantly.

"That's not what Josef seems to think. He was pretty shocked that you were thinking about going out to the desert. He said you knew it wasn't in your jurisdiction and he told me he'd talk to you. There have to be other ways to handle this so that you don't have to be involved for once. It doesn't always have to be YOU!" She fought back tears. "It's always YOU, Mick!"

"Josef and I **did** talk about this when I went there - **after** he jumped me about the whole thing and **after** he confessed that you had been there, bending his ear." He softened his tone, pleading with her now. "Beth, listen. It **is** my job, I am tasked with keeping the vampire community safe here. I **have **to go and Josef knows that - regardless of what he said to you."

Seeing her expression change, the vampire continued. "But, you need to understand something - you can **not** go running to Josef anytime you disagree with me. Not about this - and not about anything else."

That last statement raised her ire. Bad enough that she was in a relationship where she couldn't even talk to her dearest friends openly about him. "I did not go 'running' to Josef. I do not 'always' talk to him. And you do **not** get to tell me whom I can and cannot talk to!" The finger was back, almost touching his nose. "I did what I did to try to protect **your **sorry ass!"

He grabbed the offensive digit again. "Beth, I swear to god, keep that **fucking **finger out of my face! And, **yes**, I **do** get to say who you can and cannot talk to - when it has to do with my job and vampire business, I do!"

"Oh, don't like that finger do you?" she retorted. She used her free hand to extend her middle digit. "This better?"

Mick fought to maintain his composure as he took in the image of what looked like an angry Kewpie doll flipping him off, her cheeks pink with outrage. Unfortunately, he lost that battle, laughing out loud, despite his anger. He couldn't help it, even though he knew he would pay dearly for it.

"Um, no." He loosened his hold on her finger and tried to lighten the mood. "Here you go, I actually prefer this one."

His laughter only enraged her further. "You think this is funny? **YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE**!" she screamed in frustration, her blue eyes shooting sparks of anger.

This latest barrage took all his good intentions for maintaining calm and effectively threw them out the window.

"**ME**? **I'M** the fucking asshole? **ME**? **WHO **went behind my back to Josef because she didn't like the way I was running my life?" He was shouting now, leaning closer to her face as he countered her accusations with his own.

"You still don't get it do you? I'm trying to make sure you **have** a life! I don't want you to end up like Josh! I don't want to watch you die! I can't lose you, I can't... I WON'T." The fury in her voice was incongruous with the hot tears that started down her face. She willed herself to stop crying. She could not appear weak, not now. This was too important.

Mick closed his eyes. So, that was really what this was all about. _You are a royal jerk. _"Beth, I'm sorry. I get it, I do." His voice was tender, all anger gone. Grabbing her shoulders, he forced her to stop when she made a move to turn away. "I **love** you, you know that. I don't want to turn this into the fight of the century here. I respect your opinions, always have. And, **despite** what you might think, I **do** listen to them. But I am **not **always going to be able to play it safe, Beth. I don't have that luxury and you need to understand that," he added softly.

She wanted to be angry. Dammit, she had a right to be. She tried with everything in her to keep it going... but the look in his eyes, and on his face...

"Beth, look at me."

She did her best not to. She just couldn't look at him; it hurt too much.

He released one shoulder to put his finger under her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his. "If I went...would you stop loving me?" His eyes searched hers, demanding an answer.

Beth exhaled shakily, conceding defeat. Her answer was written in her face. "Damn you," she whispered in a tone that really meant 'I love you'.

If he had learned nothing else in his 85 years on the planet, Mick St. John had learned when to shut up. He bent down and kissed her hungrily, savoring the feel and taste of her mouth on his.

The part of Beth that still raged tried to back away from him, could not let him win so easily but he held onto her, his vampire strength overcoming her human struggle easily as he pressed his body up against hers, enjoying the feel of her trying to move against him.

"Damn you, Mick St. John," she swore, sputtering in her anger. "You damn stubborn Irishman!"

"Hey, watch your language! You'll have to go to confession!" He knew she was still angry - truth be told, so was he, but he didn't want to fight - not with her. He wrapped his arms around her small form. "Beth, I **hate** fighting with you. But, you **have **to stop meddling in my business. I don't know how else to say it."

Beth took umbrage at that. "I **don't **meddle, Mick. I'm your girlfriend, remember? It's not meddling for me to care." On that she would not back down.

"No, it isn't meddling for you to care; I love that you care." He paused and nuzzled her neck for a moment, breathing in her scent. "Worrying about me going is caring. Going to Josef to coerce him to try to talk me **out **of going is meddling. You have to promise me that you won't go to him behind my back again. Promise me."

Tense moments of silence covered the room like a pall. The hairs on Beth's neck were literally standing on end. She fixed her mouth to say something, then, with absolutely no warning... she jumped him.

The vampire was caught completely off-guard and staggered backward, ending up on the floor with her in his arms. Beth continued her onslaught, her kisses starting at his chest, and drifting steadily downward.

Mick sucked in his breath, an involuntary moan escaping his lips, realizing just how dangerously close he was to losing control.

"Beth, STOP!" he commanded, holding her off at arm's length for a moment, struggling to compose himself. He should have walked away, done anything he could to distract her. Anger, aggression and arousal were a volatile mixture, especially for vampires. This could not happen, not like this... it was too dangerous... too... good... _feels so good... fuck it!_

He sprang up off the floor, grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, bounding up the stairs, two and three at a time.

"Mick! Put me down! Stop! HEEL!"

Ignoring her cries, he pushed open the door to the bedroom and slid her off his shoulder. Breathing heavily, the two lovers stared at each other for a long moment, then Mick grabbed her and pressed his lips against hers, almost roughly forcing his tongue into her mouth.

She responded by grasping double handfuls of his hair to hold his face close, her kiss becoming as insistent and urgent as his. For a long moment, the only sound in the bedroom was that of their embrace – clothes rustling, small gasps and moans, lips meeting and realigning with lips.

Mick finally broke away despite Beth's groan of protest. He looked long and hard into her eyes and, finding what he sought there, suddenly picked her up and tossed her through the air to land on the luxurious silken bedspread.

Beth had only enough time to draw a startled breath before he was demonstrating the "sexy vampire jumping thing" she so loved, flying through the air to land next to her on the king-size bed. Emitting a sound that was half groan, half growl, he grabbed the shirt she was wearing and ripped it off her slender body, popping buttons and tearing buttonholes as he did.

"Hey!" Beth was panting, shocked - and secretly thrilled - to see this side of him. For weeks now, he'd lectured her on the importance of maintaining control, setting boundaries, being careful when - and how - they touched. She started to issue a token protest at this violation of her clothing, but he was on her before she could speak, covering her mouth with his.

He pressed her down onto the bed with the force of his kiss, his urgency overwhelming her, sweeping her up in his passion until she surrendered to it, reaching up to pull him down on top of her. He resisted, instead reaching down to work her skirt down over her hips, making a show of removing it without inflicting damage to the item.

"Was that better?" he asked with a wicked grin. "Don't want to ruin **all** of your clothes…" With a flip of his arm, the skirt followed the shirt into the corner of the bedroom, and he gazed down at her, clad now only in her underwear. He frowned suddenly, sitting back on his heels and shaking his head.

"What's the matter?" Beth propped herself up on her elbows, concerned. _Dammit! What happened?_

He considered her for a moment, his head cocked to one side. Then he pronounced, "Too many clothes!" His hand darted forward, jerking her bra off so suddenly that she could barely follow his motions. "There! Much better!"

"Ouch!" she pouted at him. "I loved that bra!" One of her prized Stella McCartney pieces was now a tattered remnant.

"Maybe you could take it back and tell them it was defective." He kept a straight face with difficulty.

"Maybe **you're** defective!" she countered, continuing the game. "What's the matter, stud? It's taking you a long time to get down to it..."

"Maybe **you** need to learn patience, my dear." Mick dropped down beside her, stopping to kiss her along the line of her underwear. _You can do this without vamping,_he told himself over and over again. The scent and feel of her against his face was already making that control a challenge, despite his words.

Beth moaned and writhed on the covers, her fingers gripping his hair, guiding his head downward. He went willingly, his mouth resting on the small patch of material between her legs. Teasingly, he blew air at her, sealing his mouth on the panties, the texture of the silk adding to the titillation, turning her into a mindless, squirming mass of desire. Her thighs squeezed in an effort to relieve the building ache.

Mick raised his head, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Are you all right, Beth?" he asked in an exaggeratedly concerned tone, running one fingertip down the inside of her thigh.

She gasped, painfully aware of his finger's motions, various muscles involuntarily spasming in response.

"Maybe you're **still** wearing too many clothes." The smile tugged at his lips just as his fingers tugged at her panties. The silken underwear didn't make it to the corner where the rest of Beth's clothes lay. Instead, it fluttered to the ground at the foot of the bed like an abandoned flag. "There. Feel better?"

Now it was a decidedly uneven contest, her naked body pressing against his fully-clothed one. She couldn't help herself; she ground her pelvis against his erection, still covered by his soft trousers. Pushing her hands underneath his cashmere sweater to dance her fingers down his spine and across the taut muscles of his back, she pulled him even closer, unaware that she was moaning.

Her lips felt bruised from the pressure of his insistent mouth... and she loved the feeling, pushing up with her hands to chase his mouth with hers when he made to pull back. He thrust her back down, his large hands on her shoulders, sliding them down to cup and fondle her breasts, eliciting a quick intake of breath, then a curse, from her. "Damn you, Mick," she whispered again, and there was no mistaking the love - and lust - in her voice.

He responded by peeling off his sweater, then lowering himself to make contact with her, brushing his chest against hers in a slow, agonizingly erotic undulation, the friction driving Beth wild.

"Get your pants off," she choked out, forcing her hands down between them to grasp at his belt.

"Uh-uh," Mick breathed into her ear. "Not until you answer me."

"Answer you?" She was bewildered for a moment. Then, she remembered his question. She pushed at his shoulders so that she could look into those hazel eyes with her own blue ones. "I'm still mad at you – but there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. **Nothing**. I could never stop loving you." She was adamant in her proclamation.

A smile appeared on his face. "Well, that's saying something coming from the woman who said she'd stopped using the word 'never'."

Mick wanted to believe her – with all his heart and soul, he wanted to believe her. He knew that Beth meant it, but he also knew that such certainties could be difficult, if not impossible, to honor. Still… "I hope I can make it easy for you to keep that promise."

"Just don't get yourself killed. Now get those pants off." Her voice was husky with want...

_**We know, we know, it was cruel to cut the chapter off there…but necessary!**_

_**For the complete Chapter 14, Consequences, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=16****  
**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	17. Chapter 15, Maelstrom

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence.

Chapter 15, Maelstrom synopsis:

_Mick's insistence on accompanying Carl Davis to San Diego to work a case leaves Beth and Jamie with a sense of foreboding. With both men potentially in peril, will Jamie finally reveal what she knows to Beth? Back in New York, Hugo Scanlin recovers from the attack by a gang of men armed with silver, but his realization that he was used as a decoy triggers a split with Victoria Silver and Gabrielle Sinclair. _

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****(Pretty please? We'd love to know what you think!)**

_**Chapter 15**_

**Maelstrom**

_Intro song: Almost Lover, A Fine Frenzy_

_Live music embed available at capeandsaber_

"Are you sure you want to do this, Beth? I can already tell you, it's him."

"I need to see for myself," she countered, projecting a courage she did not feel, the dread coiled in her stomach like a snake waiting to strike. "I need to... to **see **him."

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Coroner's Assistant Guillermo Gasol gently pulled back the sheet covering the muscular body, just enough for the head and shoulders to appear, revealing the forever-stilled Mick St. John.

"H-how did it happen, Guillermo?" Beth asked quietly, her voice choked with grief. Her hands cramped from the effort of holding them in tightly closed fists at her sides, when what she longed to do was reach out to touch him, stroke his hair, wake him up...

The vampire shook his head. "From what I can tell, silver bullets and this large cut to his throat."

Guillermo hesitated for a moment, not sure how much Beth could handle, and then plunged ahead. She deserved to know everything. "Looks like they tried to decapitate him, but didn't have the time to finish the job. The damage was done, though. The real cause of death? It's a combination of silver poisoning and exsanguination. "

"Can you leave me alone with him for a little while? Please, Guillermo?"

"Yeah, sure Beth. But, because of what he is, you know, I have to handle his... arrangements... soon. I'll be back in about half an hour." He patted her sympathetically on the shoulder and exited quietly, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes.

Beth wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, hugging herself. She felt as if her heart would burst from her chest, so badly did it hurt. Her worst fear was realized. She had lost her guardian angel. "I begged you not to go... I **begged **you..." She dropped her head and began to weep in abject despair. "Mick... why... I... I can't... do this... I can't..."

"Beth... Beth..."

Large blue eyes, filled with unadulterated terror, flew open. Slowly, the recognition of her surroundings seeped into Beth's consciousness, easing her fear. Most welcome of all was Mick's face, hovering worriedly over her. _Oh, thank god._ He was safe, in bed with her._ It was just a dream... no, a nightmare! _

"Sorry," she breathed, once she was capable of speaking.

Mick tenderly wiped her tears, then crooked his forefinger under her chin, raising her frightened face to his worried one. "Bad dream?" he asked gently. Her pulse was still racing, but he could feel - and hear - her start to relax.

Beth hadn't even realized she'd been crying. Instinctively, she sought solace, nuzzling against him. "I'll say," she whispered into his chest.

Mick folded his arms around her. "Tell me," he prompted.

"I don't want to talk about it." Her voice was flat, signaling that there was no room for negotiation. She hadn't meant to say it so bluntly, but the image of the man she loved so dearly, lying cold and dead on a steel table, was too fresh in her mind. She just could not bring herself to talk about her nightmare right now, especially not with Mick. "Please don't go," she pleaded, pushing her cheek tightly against his chest, enjoying the light tickle of hairs. "I need you... here."

The vampire tightened his embrace, and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent. She didn't need to say any more. He had sensed - and understood - her fear. "I don't want to, I have to," he answered honestly. "I would never willingly risk not being here for you."

He offered her what hope he could. "Hey... I promise to be careful - and prepared. Nope, not going out in the sun, and I won't be alone." He purposefully kept his tone was light and playful.

She raised her head, studying his hazel gaze. "No heroics? Just routine P.I. work?"

"Yep, I'm just a consultant. Carl's the lead. And that's how it's gonna be." He nodded for emphasis.

Beth was not easily assuaged... but she could tell he meant every word, even if the reality was that it might be out of his control. "I guess that's the best I can get." She smiled faintly, her hand stroking his face this time. "I'll take it."

He turned on his side, and laid her gently back down on the soft cotton sheets, pulling the covers over her. "You need rest. Tell you what... how about, when I get home - and, Beth, I **am** coming home - you and I do something fun. Whatever you want."

She snaked her hand up the back of his neck, running her fingers through the thick wavy hair at the nape. "It's a date," she agreed, lifting to kiss him. "And, you'd damn well better bring your ass home."

She kissed him again, this time throwing her whole being into it, arms around him, her bare body pressed into him hungrily, leaving no doubt as to what she wanted - and needed.

Twenty intense minutes later, Beth Turner was on her side, fast asleep, her nightmares temporarily vanquished.

* * *

"Why is it that you seem to be incapable of executing a simple plan, John?" Christophe Durand's voice was muted, but, like the low growl of an attack dog, it was all the more threatening for the lack of volume.

_I'd rather he shouted, _Giles thought. He had just delivered the message that the planned attack on Hugo Scanlin, targeted because he was now the interim head of the New York City vampire clan, had failed miserably.

"Christophe, we planned this very carefully, but, as you recall..." he hesitated.

The road he was about to go down with Durand was a dangerous one. He has seen first-hand what happened to people who argued with the Crucis leader. _Fuck it. "_As you **recall**, I wanted to wait a few days until they were a little less on their guard in order to prevent what just happened." Unconsciously, he held his breath, waiting for Christophe's reaction.

Durand eyed the much shorter man for a long moment, the air laden with tension. Unexpectedly, he smiled. "I'm going to forgive you that, John. I know that you have had a series of... misfortunes. The team is surely dead, even though we have not recovered their bodies, and I know that the responsibility for all those young, promising lives must weigh heavily on your conscience. Imagine how you would feel if that were Rebecca." His steely blue eyes regarded his colleague evenly.

Giles stiffened at what he perceived to be an implied threat. _Stay calm. Think of Rebecca. _He fought to keep his anger out of his voice.

"Please don't say things like that, Christophe. I **do** feel responsible for those men, but I believe I discharged my responsibilities appropriately. We had accurate information as to the vampires' movements and the size of the party from our mole, and the plan was a good one. It was the execution that fell short - and **I'm** not responsible for that! I think you need to take that up with Davidson. Maybe his training methods need to be reviewed."

Durand nodded almost imperceptibly. "I will, you can be sure of that, John. We have lost some excellent operatives - just when we need them most. They will be difficult to replace in time. You may have to adjust accordingly. Are you prepared to do so?"

"I will be. I've already started reworking the plans."

"Good. We will only get one shot at this, you know, and it must be perfectly executed. Dominoes must fall in order. - and that means everyone must be ready and able to do his or her job."

"I will take care of my end. Just..." Giles clenched his fists unconsciously.

"Yes?"

"Just don't bring up Rebecca again, all right? You **have **to be pleased with her work so far. Don't connect her to my actions."

Durand regarded his subordinate impassively. "I will take that under advisement, John. I know you love Rebecca; I support that. Just be sure you are not letting that get in the way of your effectiveness. Uxor formosa et vinum sunt dulcia venena."

Giles groaned to himself. Christophe's penchant for Latin quotes was beginning to be an irritant. When no explanation was forthcoming, he asked, "And, that means...?"

"A man's work stands on its own merit," Durand translated. Silently, he reflected upon the real meaning. '_Beautiful women and wine are sweet venom.' This venom may soon need to be sucked out, John...__**C**__**ontinued at capeandsaber(.com)**_

_**For the complete Chapter 15, Truths, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=17**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	18. Chapter 16, Exposure

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence…

Chapter 16, Exposure synopsis:

_Carl and Mick share personal information on the trip to San Diego, leading to the two men becoming closer. Once in San Diego, at the direction of Ben Talbot, they carry on their investigation of the mysterious murders there - murders that include decapitations and bodies burned to ash. Could someone be hunting down vampires in CA? Beth, worried about Mick's safety, comes up with a creative way to spend her time._

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The ****complete**** chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****(Pretty please? We'd REALLY love to know what you think!)**

_**Chapter 16**_

**Exposure**

**"Bad Day" by Daniel Powter**

_This was never going to be a good day anyway, _Beth told herself when she saw Marissa's face pop up on her phone's glossy black surface.

The day had alternately dragged...and flown by...as she fretted over Mick's road trip to San Diego with Carl Davis. She **definitely** didn't feel like she was prepared to deal with Marissa today, but her sense of duty to their friendship prevented her from dodging the call. She thumbed the connection, reflexively dropping her forehead into her hand, in anticipation of a headache.

"Hi, Marissa. How are you?"

"Hey, girl! Just had a date cancel – I wanted to see if you might be at loose ends tonight! I was hoping that 'man-god' might have a stakeout to spy on some hot couple cheating on their spouses or something, so we could grab a drink."

Beth told herself that she should do something to occupy her time until Mick got home, but just the **thought **of trying to keep up with an alcohol-influenced Marissa, making small talk and dodging questions about her relationship with Mick, exhausted her.

"Marissa, I'd love to, but I can't. Mick and I are tied up, something that's been in the works for a while." _That much isn't a lie. _"How about Thursday night?"

"Sure, girlfriend, works for me. Have I got a story to tell you!"

Beth had to laugh, picturing her friend, dark eyes dancing, as she told yet another of her outrageous stories.

"You **always **have a story to tell, that's one of the things I love about you." She started to say goodbye, but Marissa stopped her.

"Hey, Beth, before you go…have you talked to Alison since our lunch on Saturday?"

No, why? **Please **tell me everything is okay, Marissa!" Beth felt a pang as she thought of Alison's happiness when she shared her news with them on Saturday. She had been so caught up in her own concerns, she had neglected her newly-pregnant friend.

"No, no! Don't worry." Marissa was quick to reassure her friend. "She's fine - that is, if you define spending most of your time with your head in the toilet as 'fine'. She's just got a bad case of morning-noon-and-night sickness. I think she'd appreciate a call. She wants to moan about it." She laughed. "You know how Alison is about being sick."

Beth did, indeed.

Alison was just this side of irrational about her health, thinking that every little twinge needed medical attention. It was an odd quirk for a scientist. Marissa had given her a book for Christmas a few years back, entitled "The Complete Manual of Things That Might Kill You: A Guide to Self-Diagnosis for Hypochondriacs." Alison had been huffy about the gift, but Dara, her partner, had laughed until she cried.

Beth could only imagine how she would be now that she was pregnant, and voiced this concern to Marissa.

"She is exactly how you would expect her to be. Exactly. Call her and see," Marissa replied cryptically before hanging up.

_Well, at least it'll be a diversion, _Beth thought, punching in Alison's number.

"Hello?" gasped a weak voice.

Beth barely recognized her friend. "Alison? Are you okay?"

The pregnant woman groaned. "Yeah, I'm okay...I guess. Just a touch of morning sickness."

"It's afternoon, Alison."

"Very funny. Bitch."

Beth couldn't stifle her laughter any longer; it took her several seconds to regain her composure. "Alison, I'm so sorry, really I am."

"Why... " There was a long pause, during which her friend's swallowing was audible. "Why don't I believe that?"

"I'm sorry I laughed - and I really **am** sorry you're feeling so bad." Beth tried to inject as much sincerity into her voice as possible, a difficult task given the fact that she was biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing again.

"Okay, you're forgiven." The scientist's voice had a hollow, far-away quality.

"Where **are **you, Alison? Your voice sounds strange."

"Maybe that's because my phone's in the toilet." There was a groan.

"Why in the world is your phone in the toilet?"

"Hell, I don't know, Beth. Maybe I was trying to get better reception!" Alison snapped. "It's where my head is, you idiot."

Beth lost her last bit of self-control and started howling helplessly with laughter, tears streaming down her face. She faintly heard her friend's voice saying "Screw you, Beth," then the distinctive sound of a toilet flushing before the call was disconnected. The sound effect sent her off again.

It took her several minutes to regain her composure, by which time her face and sides ached from laughing. _I needed that... _Her thought was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Are you okay, Beth?"

Wiping her eyes, the young woman looked up into her office mate's concerned face.

"Hey, Phil! I didn't hear you come up. I'm fine - thanks for asking. Just having an...interesting... conversation with a pregnant friend. Oh, and thanks for letting me use your charger again this morning. You are a life-saver. I can't believe I forgot to charge it **again**!" _I have __**got**__ to get it together..._

"No problem. Well then," he nodded toward Talbot's empty office, "I'm gonna take advantage of Dickbot not being in the office this afternoon, and make like a banana and split." With a wave of his hand, Phil sauntered off.

_Everyone is a comedian today. _Beth watched him go, mentally running through her 'to-do' list. Finding nothing on it that was pressing enough to keep her in the office any longer, she shoveled her files into a drawer and locked it for safekeeping. The irony was not lost on her that her biggest fear was not that someone would take something - but that they might **leave** something...

* * *

Victoria pushed the button to open the top of her custom-built, double-wide freezer, the lid retracting smoothly and silently on its stainless steel runners, triggering the silencing of the music that piped into the enclosure when the freezer was sealed.

The confrontation with Hugo Scanlin in the early morning hours kept replaying in her head. She regretted allowing him to goad her into losing her temper in front of the vampire council. They all knew Hugo and his propensity for drama and self-aggrandizing, of course, but it didn't help her case to have them see her fly off the handle like that, regardless of the provocation.

The council had agreed to reconvene Thursday night to interrogate the surviving member of the team that had attacked Scanlin. She had asked for that extra time in order to 'prepare' the prisoner for the meeting.

Centuries of watching the cruelties that humans inflicted on one another had given her insight into the workings of men's minds - along with some first-hand knowledge of effective torture techniques. When Gabrielle had hauled the bloody, terrified young man in front of her early Monday morning, Victoria had recognized the signs of a man in utter shock.

He should be terrified - but clear-headed - when she questioned him, and nothing she could do or say would frighten him as much as his own imagination. He just needed time to steep in his fear.

She had ordered Gabby to throw him in a reinforced room in the skyscraper where they had met with the council. Like the condo hi-rise where the meeting with Hugo had occurred, this office building was owned by the New York City tribe under the cover of a shell corporation Victoria had set up more than a half-century before.

In addition to serving as a useful home office for human business interactions, it was often used as a base for operations and planning meetings, especially when the Eastern Council was in formal session.

Before the petite Oriental woman had hauled him away, Victoria had leaned in until she was almost nose to nose with her captive.

"Mr...Engels, is it?" she had asked, shooting a quick glance at Gabrielle, standing by the side of the chair where the man slumped. His captor had nodded curtly back at the vampire leader.

Transferring her attention back to the cowering man, Victoria had resumed. "Mr. Engels, I want you to think very long and hard about what you've been involved in. We do not choose to be the demons your organization would have you believe we are - but, I can assure you that we **can** be."

"For instance, Gabby here," she had nodded at the vampire holding the cowering man by the back of his neck, "is a lovely young woman, but I believe you saw first hand how ruthless she can be when threatened. You are the only surviving member of your little party. I will allow you some time to think about that. Think about what you've seen and the situation you find yourself in. Then, I'm going to ask you some questions...and it will be in your best interests to answer them."

She had smiled at the young man who shrank back in his chair, away from the blue-white eyes and gleaming fangs of the vampire who suddenly appeared in front of him in place of the elegant woman who had been standing there a moment before.

Backing away from Victoria, he had shrieked, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" and collapsed onto the floor, covering his head with his hands. Disgusted, Gabrielle had hauled him up by the back of his collar and propelled him out the door in front of her.

He had been cooling his heels in isolation ever since, alone in a heavily guarded room. _You should be just about softened enough by now_, she thought, with a sigh for what lay ahead. Torturing humans was never high on her list of fun activities...

With a shrug, the beautiful vampire sat up and reached for the floor-length, cashmere robe carelessly tossed on the antique bench by the side of the freezer. _Well, we have to have answers. And, I make Gabby the bad cop..._Stepping out of the out-size appliance, she scanned the bank of security camera screens while she belted the soft, deep red material around her slender body.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary on the monitors, she headed toward the bathroom, separated from her freezer room by a reinforced steel door. Once through the doorway, the entrance to her freezer room was concealed by a wall of shelving and art work in the elaborate bathroom.

Josef had poked fun at her security measures on more than one occasion. _I wonder if he'd still make fun of me now._

The thought of the elder vampire, and his apparent abandonment of her, made Victoria hurt all over again - an ache she would channel to her benefit.

* * *

"You wanna toss that into the back?"

They were already gliding down the 10 Freeway East when Carl noticed his passenger was still hoarding his personal effects in the front seat.

"Oh… sure, thanks." Mick threw his cap into the rear seat, but handled his beverage container far more carefully, reaching back to set it down cautiously on the floor behind the driver's seat - within easy reach, if need be. "Beth has me trying some new liquid protein deal - promised her I'd take it along."

Carl hadn't asked, but Mick knew cops. His noticing - and taking the trouble to mention - the thermos meant he would think about it unless, or until, he came up with an explanation.

"Speaking of... how's she doing?" Carl paused. "She went through a rough patch with…you know."

The P.I. caught Carl's eye and shrugged. "She's - well, she's Beth. She's one of the strongest people I know. It took her a while to come to grips with what happened - bad enough to lose someone you love, but when you have to see them murdered right in front of you... she's tough, though." He trailed off, momentarily silent as he thought back to that awful night.

"Tough on the outside, soft on the inside, that's how it usually works."

"She blamed me for a while." Mick had no idea why he divulged that to Davis and immediately wished that he could retract the statement. The words seemed to come out of his mouth without his knowledge or consent.

Carl kept his gaze straight ahead. "You can't take that personally, Mick. She had to yell at someone - and she can't punch out the universe. So... she did the next best thing." His mouth twisted wryly. "I mean, I know you understand that... doesn't stop you from feeling like shit, though."

"Yeah, I got that." Mick didn't say anything else for a long moment, staring out the side window, picturing Beth's face when he visited her the night of Josh's murder. Then, he shrugged again. "I said she was tough - but she IS still female, so..." Uncomfortable with the conversation, he fell silent, at a loss to explain why he'd volunteered such personal information.

To change the subject, he asked, "Mind if I turn on the radio?"

"Sure, go ahead." Carl caught Mick's shift in mood. The detective understood his companion's reticence, especially given that they were still practically strangers. "Listen though... don't think you're telling me anything I haven't heard or been through before. I got my own personal war stories where women are concerned."

Mick hesitated. Most men would ask to hear those war stories and commiserate, telling some of their own. _You __**aren't**__ most men_, he reminded himself. The last thing he needed was to get into personal discussions with Carl Davis. That path was fraught with danger. Instead, he fiddled with the radio, searching among the satellite stations to find a jazz channel he liked.

"So... you're into George Benson?"

Mick was momentarily taken aback. "Huh? Oh, you mean at my place... yeah. I just needed something light to clear my head." He kept scanning the stations until he found what he wanted.

"That okay?" he asked, as the gravely voice of B.B. King filled the cabin.

Carl grinned and seemed to relax considerably. "Hell, yeah!"

Mick was pleasantly surprised by their similar taste in music. This was safer ground, much less likely to shift under his feet, like a sudden California earthquake. "You like the King, huh?"

The lieutenant's brow furled in a look of true befuddlement. "You mean... someone **doesn't**?" He shook his head. "No such people are allowed in my reality."

Mick snorted. "You haven't been around many teenagers and young adults in a while, have you? Half of them can't even spell 'B.B. King'."

Carl laughed out loud. "Damn, don't get me started on - how does my dad put it? Oh yeah - 'the vapid cultural wasteland that is modern America'."

"Well, it's not all their fault - kids just aren't being raised right! My father would **never **have let me grow up without knowing good jazz." Again, Mick wondered why he was saying these things, providing opportunities for Carl to ask him about his past, his family, his upbringing... all topics that were off limits when talking to untrusted humans.

If the officer noticed anything odd, he didn't comment on it. "My old man is a jazz nut too. Has every album ever made by Miles Davis - the original versions, mind you." He smiled broadly as he smoothly transferred the Escalade to the passing lane. "Miles Davis, blasting out of my car stereo, the summer I graduated from high school - man, those were good times!"

"Miles is smooth as silk," Mick agreed. "I loved his music from the first time I heard it. And, think of all the great musicians who got their start in his ensembles! Gotta admire your dad for assembling that collection."

Carl's expression downshifted slightly. "Yeah... nice to know me and the old man have something in common..."

Mick studied his driver out of the corner of his eye. "But not everything, right?"

Davis shook his head, as if trying to erase something. "Sorry... you don't want to hear about that. Besides, my folks frown upon 'airing dirty laundry' - you know how people from the South are."

The vampire stared out his window. "I'd guess that your story and mine wouldn't be a whole lot different. I think a lot of men have problems with their fathers... much as we love them."

Carl smirked. "Yeah... dads... and women... that's why God made scotch..."

Mick whipped his head back around to the detective. "God, yes! Single malt is one of the biggest reasons to love life."

"Okay, pop quiz. Complete this list: single malt scotch - 25 years old at least, a Cohiba, leather chair - well worn, of course... low lighting..."

"...and jazz." Mick grinned. This trip wasn't nearly as painful as he had anticipated.

Davis's smile was an echo of his companion's. "Ah... but who? Miles, Coltrane, Byrd... or if you're really ready to cry in your drink... Billie Holiday."

Mick groaned. "Damn. You're putting me on the spot now. How about... all of them? You know, those Cohibas take a while to smoke... and it would be a damn shame to guzzle good scotch... so we're talking several hours of bliss here."

Carl nodded approvingly. "You're all right, St. John."

The vampire smiled sadly. _We could have been friends._ "Yeah, you too, Davis."… **To be continued at capeandsaber (.com)**

_**For the **__**complete**__** Chapter 16, Exposure (and there is MUCH more), along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=18**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	19. Chapter 17, Hurt

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence…there's a lot of both in this one, folks

Chapter 17, Hurt synopsis:

_With a terrified Beth Turner at his side, the vampire community rallies in a desperate attempt to save Mick St. John. The repercussions of the San Diego incident are felt in the Los Angeles DA's Office, with a face-off between allies. In New York City, Christophe Durand decides the fates of those who have failed him while Victoria Silver, enraged by Mick's ambush, vents her anger on her human prisoner. Be it friend or foe, no one emerges unscathed._

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The ****complete**** chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****(Pretty please? We'd REALLY love to know what you think!)**

**Chapter 17**

**Hurt**

Intro Song:

**Pain by Ayreon**

(.com) /watch?v=plkne8iNYx0

He hurt.

His whole world was pain. Swirling, rushing...**devouring**...pain. Pain so intense he could taste it, see it, almost reach out and touch it. Red and angry, it coated his nerve endings, swallowed his vision, filled his brain, until there was nothing else. It drove him wild, urged him to strike out, exhorted him to rend and tear, to **kill**...as it was killing him.

Dimly, he could sense blood rushing down his throat, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough, to satisfy the pain's insatiable appetite. He needed more...

The smell of a human brought him near the surface, the red tide whispering to him to attack, to drink, to destroy...

He opened his eyes to see only the hated crimson, the color of his enemy, the hue of the blood he abhorred having to depend on to live. _This isn't living... _Whom had he said that to? Someone important. Someone who would understand and know he was buried under all this, crying out for help. Someone who wouldn't let him drown here, in so much pain...alone...

_Beth!_

He couldn't see through the undulating cloud of agony, but he knew that scent, that touch. He felt her grasp his hand and he held on, clutching her as if his life depended on it. _It does... _

Desperately, he fought to clear his throat, to empty his mouth of the suffocating red, both real and imagined, that was threatening to choke him. He wanted to talk to her, tell her...tell her what? _I love you. I need you. Don't leave me._

He could feel his body convulsing in his effort to battle to the surface so he could communicate with her. He had almost made it when a huge wave of pain swept in, washing him back, away from the surface, away from Beth, drowning him...

He couldn't help it. He screamed.

"What are you doing, Guillermo?" Beth almost screamed herself at the sound of agony that burst from the man lying helplessly on the table. She shifted to look down across his body, then darted her eyes away with a sudden intake of breath - not quickly enough, however, to block out the sight of Guillermo Gasol, his gloved hands buried in Mick's abdomen, sleeves stained to the elbows with his blood. _I'll never get that out of my head... _"Can't you knock him **out**?"

The morgue assistant looked up, his face stricken. "I can't, Beth- I wish to hell I could! Human anesthesia doesn't seem to work on vamps, our bodies overcome it too fast. I don't **want** to hurt him - I'm trying to help him!. But this damn silver...it's everywhere, man. The bullets were hollow points - **silver** hollow points - and they exploded on impact. He's just riddled with it! " Sweat beaded on Guillermo's forehead and he contorted his body to wipe his face with his shoulder, keeping his hands in place.

"What about staking him?" Beth was desperately casting about for something...anything...that would release Mick from this torture.

"It'd keep him still, but he'd lose more blood, have more trauma. I just don't wanna risk it. And, it wouldn't help the pain anyway. He'd still feel every fucking thing." Guillermo's face was a reflection of Beth's despair.

"What can we do?" she moaned, tears running down her face to drip, unnoticed, from her chin. "What can we do?"

Josef stepped forward from the shadows where he had hovered, watching Guillermo work on his friend. He had sensed Mick's vampire survival instincts kicking in when Beth burst through the door, fresh from a white-knuckled flight from L.A. in his new helicopter. Kostan had tensed to intervene if needed - but it wasn't necessary. Despite his desperate condition, Mick had reined himself in, clearly realizing it was Beth. His control had astonished Josef.

"Keep talking to him, Beth. Tell him what we're doing. Tell him he **has** to hang on until Spector gets here. He's been calmer ever since you got in here. He'll hear you. He- he'll do what you say." His voice betrayed his anguish.

Beth looked at the elder vampire, fear in her eyes. "He isn't going to die, Josef...is he?"

"No," he said flatly, almost defiantly. In Josef Kostan's world, the idea of losing his best friend was neither contemplated, nor tolerated.

Beth scanned his face, searching for some sign that Josef had a trick up his sleeve, an aspect of vampire physiology that she had yet to learn, something that would heal Mick's horrendous injuries and allow him to get up off the table, savor a glass of scotch, play his guitar. She saw none of that...just a look of determination that said he would not **let** Mick die.

Her attention was pulled back to the vampire on the table as he cried out again, thrashing and fighting the bindings that held him in place. Mick's eyes were open, but unseeing, yet, Beth was somehow certain that he knew she was there. She bent back down to him, holding fast to his hand as she spoke to him soothingly, reaching her free hand up to stroke his forehead and run her fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. _He even has blood in his hair. _Oddly, it was that thought, rather than the sight of his cut-open abdomen, that nauseated her. She determinedly pushed down the bile that rose in the back of her throat and focused on the man in front of her.

"You're going to be fine, Mick, just hang on. Guillermo is getting the silver out. And, Dr...Spe- Spector is coming to take care of you." She stumbled over the unfamiliar name, glancing up at Josef to be sure she had it right.

Kostan, who had slumped back against the wall, nodded to her encouragingly. He passed a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away the sight of his friend, moaning in pain, abdomen cut open, intestines spilling across the table, blood...blood was everywhere.

His mind flashed back to Mick's arrival. Guillermo had called ahead from the 'copter to tell him to get a room ready so that they could work on the injured vampire. Kostan was barking orders before the call was even completed, throwing men bodily out of his way as he scrambled to convert the immaculate, stainless steel kitchen to an operating theater in short order.

Gasol had warned him that it was bad..._really bad, Josef_... but nothing had prepared him for the sight of his friend being carried in, covered in blood, screaming in pain, his hands pressing against a thick bandage Guillermo had applied to his abdomen.

When they laid him down on the table, Mick had cried out again, every movement agony for him. He lost consciousness, his hands slipping off the bandage, allowing the gauze pack to pull away. The loops and whorls of his intestines had followed, sliding out of the gaping wound.

Josef was aghast. "Fuck, Guillermo!" he had shouted, feeling as if he, himself, had been hit in the gut. "What did they **do** to him? He isn't healing at all!"

Gasol had looked at him with something close to panic in his dark eyes. "It looks like it was hollow point bullets - silver ones, from what I can tell. They pretty much blew him apart and filled him full of fucking silver at the same time, just for good measure. I think he must have too much silver in him to heal. Whoever did this **had** to know he's a vamp!"

The morgue assistant had looked down at the temporarily quiet man with despair. "I hope he **stays** unconscious. The ride here in the chopper was hell for him - and there isn't much I can do, Josef." He had raised his head to meet Kostan's stare. "Unless you have some bright ideas..."

Josef had instantly snatched up his phone to dial Victoria Silver's number, holding his breath as the call went through. His cowardice in refusing to contact her after they had fled New York might come back to bite him in the proverbial ass. He could only hope she would answer - if for no other reason than to, at least, curse him for his abandonment.

A cultured voice at the other end said coldly, "Why, hello Josef. What a surprise. To what do I owe this honor?"

_She has to help. _"Victoria, something has happened to Mick..."

He had been surprised at how quickly she had agreed to help, marshaling her resources to track down Spector and putting him on an ultra-fast private jet to get him to them quickly.

_But not quickly enough..._

Josef flinched at the sound of Mick crying out again in agony. The cry brought him reluctantly back to the nightmare of the present. _Damn it!_

The P.I. seemed to lose consciousness once more as Guillermo fished out another large fragment of silver, dropping it into a small stainless steel bowl, already half full of similar scraps.

Josef looked at his Rolex for at least the tenth time since Guillermo had talked with the New York physician, frowning at the gold face. Time was passing slowly - much too slowly. _I can't take any more of this... _He pushed himself away from the wall.

"Guillermo, I'm gonna go check on Ryder, see if he and Logan are getting those supplies Spector needs. And, I need to be sure the staff is out of the way. Beth...just-" He swallowed hard. "Just keep doing what you're doing."

Beth swiveled around, flipping her hair out of her face with an impatient toss of her head, her hands still occupied with the injured vampire on the table. "Josef, **wait**!"

Kostan froze in his tracks. "What is it?"

"You are **not** leaving this room until you fill me in on what's going on! Who is this Spector?"

"Look, I don't have time to play your favorite game of twenty foolish fucking questions!" He winced at the sound of his own voice, his tone harsh, his words needlessly cruel.

"And, I'm not **asking** any 'foolish fucking questions'!" she snapped, unfazed by his attitude. "I need to know what's going on. I **deserve** to know! Tell me." Infuriated, she glared back at Josef, holding her ground until he dropped his gaze.

Guillermo withdrew his bloody hands, draping a sterile towel over the unconscious man's still-gaping abdomen Scowling from Mick's irate girlfriend to the elder vampire and back again as he hurried over to the counter, he grabbed another bag of blood, unintentionally smearing its surface with Mick's blood as he thrust it at Beth. "Get this down him, I don't care how."

With a hostile glare at Josef, Guillermo stomped over to the sink, stripping his latex gloves off as he went. Muttering to himself, he stuck his arms under the faucet to rinse off the blood. The last thing Mick needed right now was a tiff between Beth and Josef.

Turning back around, he threw down the hand towel he was using - which now resembled a bloody Rorschach - and growled at them. "I'm gonna give Mick a rest and **I'LL** go check with Logan and Ryder on the supplies. You two settle your little disagreement by the time I get back." Before either could respond, he was gone.

Josef was, for once, at a loss for words, his mouth hanging open as he watched the door close slowly behind the normally calm Latino. He jumped when Beth spoke again.

"Well, Josef? Who is Spector?"

Kostan sighed. She **did** deserve to know. He had just been so desperate to get out of that room, away from the pain he was helpless to protect his friend from...

"Okay, Beth, you're right - and, I shouldn't have said what I did."

He hurried on before she had the chance to register the fact that she had just received an apology of sorts from Josef Kostan. "Spector is a New York City doctor, a human physician, who specializes in working on vamps. He saved Victoria Silver when she was injected with that silver compound."

He paused as he thought back to the events of that day, and then corrected himself. 'Well, he and **Mick** saved her, that is." There was silence for a long moment until Beth prodded him.

"And...?" She continued stroking Mick's hair as she stared at Kostan, finding the rhythm of her caresses soothing - to her, even if not to him.

"**And**...when we first got him here - before you arrived - Guillermo realized Mick was too badly hurt for him to do much to help, so I called Victoria. Mick told you about her, right? Head of the vamp community in New York. She has arranged to have the doctor flown out here to operate on Mick. He should be here in..."

He stopped to consult his watch again. _Is the goddamn thing __**broken? **_ "Another three hours or so." He tried to keep his voice steady, but his worry betrayed him.

"Three hours," Beth whispered, her hand pausing in its sweep through her lover's hair. "Can he save him, Josef?" She looked at Mick's best friend, her eyes dark with pain and fear. "**Can** he?"

"I hope so, Beth. Because we can't." With that, Josef was gone and she was left alone with the grievously injured vampire… **There is much more of this intense chapter, continued at capeandsaber (.com)**

_**For the **__**complete**__** Chapter 17, Hurt, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=19**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	20. Chapter 18, Purgatory

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence…there's a lot of both in this one, folks

Chapter 18, Purgatory synopsis:

_**Ben Talbot and Christophe Durand each deal with the fallout from the vicious attack in San Diego with his subordinates. Jamie Sommers comes to the aid of the drunken, despondent Carl Davis, and, upon learning of the ambush, makes a rash decision. In Temecula, Mick fights for his life as Beth, Josef, and his friends face the possibility that he may die. While fate plays out in California, another drama unfolds in New York, where Victoria continues her prisoner's special treatment - and her push for a dubious vampire council to accept the reality of an organized campaign to eradicate their kind.**_

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The ****complete**** chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****(Pretty please? We'd REALLY love to know what you think!)**

**Chapter 18**

**Purgatory**

_**Farewell My Friend by Loner**_

**. (com)**

**/watch?v=ntEtAXxGLJc**

Mick wandered through the quiet streets, familiar reminders of his long-ago childhood. The air around him was heavy and hushed; he saw everything only in varying shades of grey, black, and white. Flecks of grey floated down from the leaden sky in an endless, dark snowstorm.

Silent figures passed him, all traveling the other way. He recognized their faces - shadows of people he had known, and loved, looking as they had when he last saw them. Most he had been forced to abandon after his turning. His mother. His father. A bandmate. His… brother. _Mitchell! _

He walked backward for a few steps in front of his mother, reaching out to her, trying to elicit a response. The loss in her eyes when she looked at him was painful to see. She halted, her hand moving to hover close to his face, as if she longed - but was afraid - to touch him. Mick clutched it, and lifted it to his cheek, closing his eyes against the rush of emotion that washed over him at the mother's touch he had not felt for so many years.

He pushed to get words out around the lump in his throat. "Mom?"

Even she did not speak to him.

After a long moment of standing there, connected but silent, she lifted her hand away, sidestepping him, and hurrying to catch up with his father. She did not pause or look back at his call.

He tried to stop each beloved person, tried to talk to him or her. Each would look at him sorrowfully, but no one spoke – and none ceased their movement away from him, the still air swallowing them up. Something prevented him from going with them. He could only move forward, never back.

The vampire grew increasingly frantic, turning his head from side to side, looking for some spark of awareness, some willingness to communicate, from anyone on the street. His long coat floated behind him in slow motion, the heavy fabric pulling through the thick air.

He spotted Lilah, the wife of the man he had called his best friend when he was human. Lilah, the girl he had fallen in love with, had an affair with, when he thought that same good friend had fallen during the war. Lilah, who had died in her bed, an old woman.

"Don't you know me, Lilah? Won't you talk to me?" he beseeched, planting himself in front of her. "I'm frightened." The beautiful young woman shook her head, but looked at him with love and compassion in her dark eyes.

Mick held her arm, tightening his grip to keep her from moving away from him. She glanced from his hand to his face, then back over her shoulder at the approaching figure of her husband. His friend. _Ray._

Now, the airborne particles turned to red, the color startling in the achromatic universe. The ruby-colored flakes streaked the surfaces they touched with rivulets of…_blood_?

He lightly, tenderly, touched her face where the flakes had landed, the red fluid sliding down her cheeks like tears. His fingertips came away stained crimson and he tentatively touched his tongue to the color. It **was **blood.

Ray came up alongside them, also looking as young as when they had last seen each other, as young as Lilah. He reached out to gently dislodge Mick's grip on his wife's arm. Taking her hand, he started off again, shaking his head at Mick when he made to stop them. They faded off into the gloom.

"Why won't anyone talk to me?" he shouted into the air, turning his face up toward the shower of red flecks drifting down onto his cheeks and hair, opening his mouth to capture them on his tongue, just as he had collected snowflakes as a child. They melted into blood, streaking his face and running down his throat. The taste was bitter and gritty, not at all like Beth's blood.

_Beth's blood?_ His mouth seemed to flood with its sweet taste, his fangs elongating. _No! _What had made him think of her?

He lowered his gaze to look down the street again, only to find that it had changed, the familiar houses replaced with churches and cathedrals, large and small, elaborate and simple. Perhaps there would be sanctuary there. He could find someone to talk to him in one of them.

He ran up to the first one and tried the door. _Locked!_

Dashing down the street to the next one, he vaulted up the steep limestone steps, taking them two and three at a time, up and up to the heavy wooden doors, only to find them barred as well.

He tried church after church, with the same results. There was no entry for him into any of them. _No salvation for me. I am damned. _Panting, he sat down on the steps of the last church he had attempted to enter, and watched the slow, silent parade of acquaintances going by, his heart heavy with loss.

Unexpectedly, he heard a voice calling his name. Stretching up to his full height, he saw a small figure, far down the street, calling his name and waving to him. She was holding open the door to a simple, rustic chapel, the crimson door shining wetly in the increasingly heavy storm of red.

A heavy-set black woman, passing in front of him at that moment, paused. Turning toward the sound, Mama Laura smiled and waved, then looked up at Mick, scowling.

"Hear dat? It's love callin' ya, boy. What are you waitin' fo'? Now git! You got livin' to do!"

He didn't know whether he was more shocked by the appearance of Mama Laura - or her ability to talk to him when no one else would, or could. But then, Mama Laura had always surprised him with her unconditional love and acceptance. He asked the question he had always meant to put to her.

"Do you know what I am, Mama Laura?"

There was no answer from the elderly woman, but she smiled at him, her face creasing into a complex road map of wrinkles. After pointing toward the waiting figure again, she resumed her slow progress down the street.

Mick needed no further encouragement. He bounded off the cathedral steps, running toward the open church door as fast as he could, a blur in the gray air, afraid that the person waiting for him there would disappear, or be silenced, before he could reach her.

As he drew closer, he could see that she was a young child, her hair golden and gleaming in the dim light, standing out like a beacon amid the black, gray, and red that was the rest of this world. Her lengthy wait for him had streaked her blond hair with blood.

When he reached her and took the heavy door out of her grasp, she smiled and said, "I've been waiting for you, Mick. Come on."

She fitted her slight hand into his and led him into the church, where a priest stood in the sanctuary, facing the back of the church expectantly, a black missal in his hands.

"Welcome, Mick," the priest called out. "I've been waiting for you, too. We have a lot to talk about."

Mick looked down at the small face beside him in wonderment.

"Go ahead." She smiled up at him, giving his hand a squeeze before disengaging it. "I won't leave without you, I promise. I love you, you know." She moved into one of the pews in the rear of the church, and settled back with a look of satisfaction.

With a heavy heart, Mick walked slowly down the aisle toward the priest. _There is no salvation for me. I am damned._

"Those are your words, not mine, Mick."

Shocked, he halted, looking up at the sanctuary and seeing, for the first time, the strong, bronzed face, split now by a dazzling smile.

The priest spoke again. "As far as I can recall, I never came to damn anyone... only to offer salvation."

"How do you know what I'm thinking? Who **are** you?" The tortured vampire whispered his questions, still rooted to the spot.

"I have so many names... Just call me what I am…Brother. I know you're scared - but I need to talk to you. Now, Mick." He still smiled, but his tone conveyed a touch of impatience that hadn't been there before.

"You're wasting your time, Father. After I was turned, I prayed and prayed. I **needed** God - but He wouldn't answer me. He doesn't **want **me! " Mick's voice was despairing, but he desperately hoped he was wrong.

The priest's bronzed face was no longer smiling, his countenance transformed into a stern, unyielding mask. "Mick, you can always talk to Him. For a long time, **you **didn't want to. And, now...you've just forgotten how."

Then, he seemed to soften. "Do you think you are the first person to come before me with sin staining your soul? Trust me, you're not. You can tell me anything. And remember... I already know your darkest secrets."

Mick looked back at the small figure waiting, as she had promised, until he was ready. He could barely make out her features in the dim light, the quivering flames from the votive candles behind her emitting an eerie glow. He squinted, and saw the blond child smile and wave at him encouragingly.

Beth blew him a kiss as he turned around to face his Maker...**There is much more of this intense chapter, continued at capeandsaber (.com)**

_**For the **__**complete**__** Chapter 18, Purgatory, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber**** (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=20**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	21. Chapter 19, Aftermath

Please note that this story continues to be rated M for strong language and violence…

Chapter 19, Aftermath synopsis:

_**The fallout from the unauthorized ambush on Mick St. John and Carl Davis continues. **_

_**In Los Angeles, Talbot finds his career in jeopardy after the botched assignment and decides to turn to his mentor for help, while Carl continues his own personal investigation into the ambush at Campo. **_

_**At Kostan's vineyard, the aftermath of Mick's struggle to survive finds Beth faced with difficult and potentially dangerous decisions, as Gabrielle and Josef plot their revenge. Before the female vampire and Dr. Spector return to New York to help Victoria Silver face the Eastern Vampire Council, Logan and Ryder provide Gabrielle with information that could prove valuable. **_

_**And within Crucis, McCallum's execution has operatives questioning their commitment to the organization and their mission, while one member pays the ultimate price for another's mistakes.**_

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The ****complete**** chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****Reviews, after all, are what make the world go 'round…and cause writers to write…**

**Chapter 19**

**Aftermath**

**Intro Song:**

**Mad World by Adam Lambert**

YouTube /watch?v=ZxGd0g-wpXA&feature=related

The scream shattered the early morning silence, seeming to hang in the air. Gabrielle was just pouring a much-needed glass of liquid nourishment when she heard it, and her heart sank. Fearing the worst, she dropped the tumbler, whirled, and hit the study door like a linebacker, throwing it back against the wall so hard the doorknob gouged a hole in the plaster. She flew back down the hall at top speed, Josef hot on her heels.

Beth was standing in the doorway of the freezer room, mist coiling out around her as the frigid air collided with the warmer, moist atmosphere in the hall. Her vivid blue eyes were wide with shock.

Gabby raced up to grab her, enfolding the trembling woman in her arms. "It's okay. It'll be all right," she said soothingly, knowing that, if Mick were dead, things might never be all right for Beth again.

Josef crowded past them, his heart in his mouth. Bracing for the worst, he charged up to the bench where the injured vampire lay stretched out... "He's- he's not dead!"

"Of **course** not!" The light from the broad hallway framed Beth in the doorway as she jabbered excitedly, "He woke up! Mick woke **up**! " Her eyes wild, she grabbed Gabby's arm and tugged her back into the cold room behind her.

Josef frowned, looking from the excited young woman to Mick's still, gray form. "Beth, what did you think you saw?" he asked patiently.

Furious at his tone, Beth shook Gabby off and turned on the elder vampire. "I know what you're thinking, Josef! I did **not** make this up and I'm **not **seeing things! Mick woke up! He talked to me!"

John Spector, summoned by Guillermo, who had also heard Beth's scream, arrived just in time to hear her last statement. "Tell me exactly what happened, Beth," he said, his voice calm and reassuring as he made his way over to the quiet figure of Mick St. John.

Beth took a deep breath. "Gabby and Logan left, and I went over to check on Mick. I kissed him and then, I realized he was kissing me back! He opened his eyes and talked to me, and then he went back to sleep." Her eyes roved from Spector to Kostan. "You have to believe me, Josef. I'm **not **making this up. Mick woke up!" Her voice was pleading now.

"I believe you **wanted **that to happen, Beth." Josef's eyes were sad, his voice gentle.

Frantically, she turned to the physician. "Dr. Spector, check him again. Please!" _I'm not crazy, he talked to me! _

Spector moved over to the bench and examined the vampire carefully, then turned to the anxiously waiting group, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"He **does** appear to react slightly now to pain and pressure, which does not happen with deeply comatose patients. It **is** feasible that Mr. St. John might have regained consciousness temporarily."

"Can you wake him up again?" Josef asked, his keen eyes traveling over his friend, vampire senses on the alert, searching for any sign that Mick was recovering.

"Well..." Spector hesitated, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. "It should be possible to bring him around with a shot of epinephrine if he is in a deep sleep as opposed to a coma." He looked up at Josef, his eyes bright above his gray beard. "Yes, it should be possible."

"Without harming him?" Gabby interjected, putting an arm around Beth protectively.

"I wouldn't suggest it if there was any chance of it harming him, Gabrielle!" Spector responded huffily. "Epinephrine is adrenaline, a naturally occurring hormone. It is the drug of choice in anaphylaxis, for example - speeds up heart rate, constricts blood vessels, opens airways. I always carry a few Epi-Pens with me for that very reason. Most physicians do. No, in the proper doses, it will not hurt Mr. St. John - and it may give him the 'jump-start' he needs."

Josef glanced over at Gabby and Beth, still standing together. Both women nodded.

"Do it," he snapped.

The interminable waiting had grown intolerable for him. If Beth were hallucinating, he would ban her from the freezer room and force her to rest, even if Spector had to drug her to get it done. If not... _If not, I'll throw the biggest motherfucking Fourth of July party Temecula has ever seen!_

"I'll have to get it from my bag." Spector waited for acknowledgment from Kostan. When Josef signaled his consent, he left the room, the vampire's eyes following him.

The billionaire caught Guillermo's eye and motioned him over. "Go with him," he ordered, in a tone too low for Beth or Spector to hear. Gabby, however, jerked her head around toward him, an unspoken question in her eyes.

Josef caught the movement, but ignored her. "Watch every move. If he draws up medication from a bottle, make damn sure you see the label." There was puzzlement in Guillermo's black eyes, but he simply nodded and hurried after the physician.

Gabrielle stared at Kostan, who shrugged and turned away. She hesitated, but decided to let it go for the time being. Victoria was always lecturing her that there was a time and place for everything - and Josef was clearly in no mood to be questioned or challenged right now.

While they waited for the physician to return, all three silently drifted to Mick's side, as if they had conferred on their course of action. Shivering, Beth bent over and kissed him lightly on the lips. There was no response. _Did I __**dream**__ it? _She was starting to doubt her own mind.

Gabrielle noticed how violently the young woman was beginning to shake. "Beth, where is your coat? You're freezing in here!"

"In my room." Beth forced out through chattering teeth. "I'm okay." She refused to take her eyes off Mick, afraid that, if she did, that would be the moment he would open his.

Gabby took pity on her. "I'll go get your things. You can't stay in here without a coat."

Glowering at Kostan, she spoke in a range that only he could hear, growling, "Talk to her, Josef," before leaving the two alone with the injured vampire.

"Beth..."

"I'm **not **crazy, Josef!" Beth interrupted, lifting her eyes from Mick to glare at his best friend.

Kostan's mouth twitched, his brown eyes sparkling with humor, despite the gravity of the situation. "Beth…my darling. You are dating - hell, **living **with- a vampire and you are standing in a freezer room at a vineyard **overrun** by vampires. Your picture probably shows up next to the **word **'crazy' in the dictionary by now!"

Beth couldn't help laughing; after a moment, Kostan joined in. Her blond hair, held back from her face by a simple black headband, swirled around her shoulders as she shook her head, acknowledging dolefully, "You are probably right, Josef. But, I'm **not **crazy about this. You'll see."

"I want you to be right, Beth, I really do." Moved by the look of hope on her face, Kostan put his arm around her slight figure, shaking so badly now from the cold that it was a fight for her to remain upright. Pulling her in close to him, he rubbed her arm and back vigorously as he grumbled, "Where the hell is Gabrielle?"

At that moment, the vampire in question returned, Beth's coat and mittens in hand, followed closely by Dr. Spector, who carefully held two odd-looking syringes in his hand as he made his way to Mick's side.

Guillermo trailed in behind them, catching Josef's eye and nodding almost imperceptibly. "It's epinephrine," he confirmed, his comment inaudible to the humans in the room.

"Just a minute, Doctor." Josef stepped up to the physician as he reached for Mick's IV line. "Tell us what's going to happen here. How long will it take after you give him this for the drug to take effect?"

"Immediately. I'll inject it right into the blood transfusion. Of course, with a vampire, the drug will dissipate quickly, but epinephrine – adrenaline, as you may know it - has an almost instantaneous effect, so that won't matter. It should be enough to wake him." Spector eyed Kostan uneasily, uncomfortably aware that the vampire did not trust him. "Do I have your permission to continue?"

Josef nodded curtly and stepped back.

Beth had been too busy pulling on the outerwear Gabby had thrust at her to catch the interchange, but Gabrielle had noted every word, frowning to herself. _What the hell is going on, Josef?_ She resolved to have a conversation with him about it. But, not now...

The tension was evident in each person's face as Spector injected the epinephrine into a port on the IV.

Beth found herself holding her breath. She threw a quick glance at Josef. While he was outwardly calm, she could see a throbbing vein underneath the pale skin of his forehead, and his hands were curled into tight fists… _**To find out if Mick lives or dies, go to capeandsaber for the complete chapter…**_

_**For the **__**complete**__** Chapter 19, Aftermath, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=21**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	22. Chapter 20, Threads

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence…

Chapter 20, Threads synopsis:

**_While Mick St. John continues his slow recuperation, Josef Kostan has an attack of conscience and makes a surprising decision. Ben Talbot and Carl Davis both continue to struggle with the repercussions of the attack on the private investigator. John Giles has his own worries, as he reaches out to Christophe Durand for help in finding his wife. _**

**_Gabrielle Sinclair and John Spector return to New York to help Victoria prepare to make her case in front of the Eastern Vampire Council, whose decision may determine the fate of the entire vampire nation. _**

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The ****complete**** chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****Reviews, after all, are what make the world go 'round…and cause writers to write…**

**Chapter 20**

**Threads**

Intro Song: "Confused" by Lenny Kravitz

The billionaire sat in his favorite, oversize leather chair, his feet crossed at the ankle and comfortably perched atop the matching ottoman. He was sequestered in his library, one of the rooms at his vineyard that was truly his own – and all knew not to bother him there unless it was urgent.

He'd taken the advice – pestering was more like it – of Beth, Simone, and even Gabrielle, and called it a morning, but he wasn't quite ready for the freezer. No, blissful oblivion would have to wait a bit longer.

So there he sat, two glasses balanced carefully on the nearby mahogany side table. One contained nutrition, the other his own vineyard blend, the two liquids hard to tell apart in the firelight, which was the room's only illumination. Josef stared at the flames as if they held some universal truth that could explain, or at least help him make sense of, all that had happened over the last several days.

Unblinking, he reached for one of the glasses, not particularly caring which one he chose. Taking a long draw, he smiled as the fine AB-negative flowed smoothly down his throat. That smile died away, however, as an onslaught of thoughts and feelings hit him. He tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, allowing the tide to wash over him.

His best friend, one of the few beings he truly loved in this world, had been brutally attacked and almost snatched from him. Someone - or something - appeared bent on a path of destruction of vampires. And then, there was another stress entirely…

Gabrielle Sinclair had kissed him. _Or, did __**I **__kiss __**her**__?_

He'd done far more titillating and outrageous things with other females, to be sure. But Josef, quiet as he kept it, always found kissing to be disturbingly intimate – which is why he didn't do it with just anyone. Oh, the cheek or neck, a peck on the lips for the freshies who needed it, those didn't count.

His issue was with the full entwining of mouth and tongue, the inhaling of the other person's emotions as readily as her scent, with connecting...even during his relatively brief stint as a human, Josef had avoided such entanglements as much as possible. Light, breezy, fun. That was his style. Just enough contact to abate the loneliness, drive it back into the recesses of his brain where it belonged.

Josef had been with a lot of women… a LOT of women. Some men might brag that they'd lost count – but he literally had. He never became jaded with sex, or life's other pleasures, thanks both to lessons from his sire, and, more importantly, those he'd learned on his own.

As he saw it, the problem with many if not most vampires was their tendency to overindulge. It was understandable. Vampires had the means, inclination and time to do so. Humans could not conceptualize what it meant to pass eternity. _But, then, neither can a lot of us. _

Sooner or later, a surprising number of vampires became ensnared by greed, entitlement, depravity... _Like Lola, _he thought sadly. That loss still hurt.

In his world view, nothing _really_ lasted forever. The odds were just far more in the favor of vampires - with the proper moderation, discretion, restraint... _and luck, don't forget about luck._

Even after four centuries of living, he was still stunned by how many vampires wasted their existences, never accomplishing anything of note or worth. There was no excuse for beings as long-lived as they to squander such opportunity.

Take money, for example. Just saving ten bucks a day, over a few centuries, would make any one of them millionaires even without interest - let alone those who, like his fellow members of the vampire nouveau riche, made concentrated efforts to achieve wealth – and the power that went along with it.

Though he gave the impression of being a carefree playboy, it was just one of his carefully constructed masks, one which allowed him to move freely between vampire and human society – and, one which Mick had seen through, even as a fledgling.

He smiled as memories of their first meeting floated to the forefront. He'd met St. John not long after moving to Los Angeles. His first reaction was that the young man was not cut out to be a vampire – and he'd told Coraline so. _And dammit, I was right!_

To be fair, with a psycho like Coraline as both sire and wife, Josef knew Mick didn't stand a chance. He hadn't fully known just how crazy she was, though, until he'd learned that Mick's turning had been forced, without prior knowledge or consent. Josef still remembered the rage he'd felt when he discovered that, a rare emotion for him. What she had done went against every rule of their kind. Where the hell was Lance and why hadn't he kept some measure of control over her?

His anger may have been triggered, in part, by his own tragic attempted turning of Sarah Whitley - one who had so desperately wanted to be with him, to be like him, that she'd hounded him to do it, despite his pleading with her to the contrary. He took siring seriously, and each vampire he'd created had been very aware, very prepared, well-transitioned... and well-chosen. He didn't speak of his progeny often - he wasn't the clingy parental type - but he took pride in his contributions to the vampire nation.

Then there was Coraline... selfish, impulsive, manipulative, and vicious, like an over-privileged, dangerous, impetuous child. She had no business bringing **anyone **into undead existence; her low threshold for boredom, combined with a petulant nature, ensured that any sire role she played would be doomed.

What she'd done to Mick, however, wasn't just the self-indulgence of a spoiled brat. It constituted, in his eyes, a mortal sin, and, as such, warranted supreme punishment. He had seriously considered slitting her beautiful throat himself, but it was not his place. She was a DuVall, and no one dared correct - let alone kill - a member of that august clan without very specific permission. He liked his head on his body, thank you very much, and intended to keep it that way.

He had worried that Mick would eventually snap and kill her himself, which was, of course, just what he had eventually done when Coraline pushed him over the edge by kidnapping the then-four-year-old Beth, and intimating that she should be turned. Turning a child, how twisted was **that**? Any vampire court would have found Coraline's murder justified after that little escapade. However, even if warranted, murdering one's sire was not looked upon kindly within the vampire community, especially when one's sire was of a royal bloodline.

Josef snorted at the irony. Technically, Mick **did **kill Coraline... sort of. But, when it came to vampires, "sort of" didn't really cut it. Thankfully, his noble but confused friend hadn't accomplished what he had set out to do - which probably explained why none of her aristocratic coterie had tried to kill him, though the elder vampire was still at a loss to explain the lack of retribution for the attempt itself...

What was undeniable was that each man, in his own way, had been grieving; and the pain, loss, and terror that had emanated from Mick had elicited what was for him an unusual response. At the time, he'd thought it was pity. Later, he came to realize it was acknowledging a kindred spirit, someone as lost as he himself felt at the time, someone who could be a true friend through the long, often lonely, years of being a vampire.

The decision to pry Mick from Coraline's grip had been surprisingly easy. All that was left to determine was the method. What he could not force, he'd opted to finesse. He'd leveraged their prior meeting in New York decades ago to gain Coraline's trust. He'd put up with her, given her a sympathetic ear...although he had to work hard to hide his disdain of her pedestrian complaints about her husband. _How the hell was the poor man supposed to act, you nutty bitch?_

To this day, it amazed him at how he had kept a straight face as she recited her petty concerns while somehow managing to sidestep, gloss over, or even deny her own egregious transgressions... like rape-turning the poor bastard in the first place. Boy, had she had a rash of explanations for that one! It had been all he could do to keep from attacking her as he listened to her rationalizations for what she'd done to Mick. _If I'd been human, it would have taken years off my life..._

It all soon paid off soon enough. Slowly, but with increasing frequency, Coraline allowed her pet out of her sight, released to **his **trusted custody. Little by little, Josef undid her treacherous teachings and taught Mick what it really meant to be a vampire.

He had instructed the confused young man on how he could live without causing undue harm, and how to feed without killing - critical information that Coraline had not seen fit to share with her husband. Josef could only speculate on her motives there but his suspicion was that she was just crafty enough to realize that the more Mick hated himself, hated what he was, the more he would isolate himself...and feel forced to turn to her.

The young vampire had been pitifully grateful to hear that mindless hunting was not necessary or even acceptable to most vampires, and was, in fact, viewed as potentially harmful to the greater community. Still, Mick's self-loathing had made him a tricky pupil in the beginning. For a long time, it was a dance of one step forward and two steps back... over and over again. Finally, however, he'd allowed Josef to introduce him to the community as a vampire in his own right, and not just Coraline's mate.

The worst of his depression gradually lifted and he began to accept Josef's philosophy that being a vampire was just one aspect of who he was - a facet that could be put to good, positive and productive use. He was still damaged goods - probably always would be, given what Coraline had done to him - but he became more independent, confident and stable.

Kostan remembered the day Mick had told him that he wanted to work, to be his own man again. It was then that Josef knew his teachings and lectures had finally taken hold.

Mick's desire to help others, to somehow repair his karma and offset the damage he'd done, coupled with his sharp, rational mind, natural instincts, and innate ability to solve puzzles, had led the young vampire to choose his vocation of private investigator. It had been a boon for the tribe because it allowed Mick to interface with human law enforcement with relative ease - and keep watch for 'strange' or 'odd' cases that implied vampire involvement.

The paperwork and records needed to construct a human identity to mask his immortal one that could stand up to the scrutiny an occupation as a private investigator would generate, had to be handled carefully. However, that was just an expected inconvenience of being so long-lived.

Josef had attended to it personally to make sure it wasn't botched. At least, that was the reason he had given, taking great glee in watching his protégé truly begin to thrive. Sure, it took Mick a couple more decades to stand on his own two feet and finally end things with the witch - thanks in no small part to the aforementioned nut job's kidnapping of a certain tow-headed little girl...

Josef doubted that Beth even knew her own significance.

Beth Turner was indeed the tipping point for his best friend, the proverbial final straw in Mick's marital saga. All the craziness aside, harming a child just to indulge her fantasy of them getting back together, finally broke Coraline's spell on Mick.

Josef finished off the contents of his blood-filled glass, thinking about the feisty blond. He'd known about Mick's kidnap case, and that it had involved a kid. However, his best friend had not been immediately forthcoming that the child was **HER**. Only after the adult Beth had accidentally stumbled upon Mick's immortal identity, did the young vampire even mention that tidbit.

And it hadn't been enough for his friend to rescue the child and return her to her very grateful mother. No, in true Mick the Saint fashion, he had watched over her, cared for her in his own abstract way, operating within the strict boundaries his damaged psyche dictated, until the little girl became a woman - an unexpectedly lovely one.

She certainly did look fetching during the BuzzWire broadcasts that he caught. Those images, however, did not do the young beauty justice. They couldn't capture the intelligence, spirit and humor that were so much a part of her charm.

Josef could tell, from Mick's first mention of meeting her - again - that his friend was smitten. The night Mick had incinerated that rogue vampire - and actually said something good about his ex-wife - pretty much told him that his friend already had feelings for Beth. It was just like Mick to fixate on Coraline when he was finally edging closer to attaching to someone. Like a man hanging on to a sharp rock in the middle of a raging river - too afraid to take a chance and grab the hand reaching to save him, all the while being torn to shreds by the very thing he won't let go of.

The strength of the bond Mick felt with the young woman became obvious to him when his friend  
at last brought her to his office. He'd done a double take - one which caused his "brother" to give him a rather nasty look involving eyes and fangs. That possessiveness was a sure sign of desire in a vampire - and something he'd not seen from his friend before. When Mick eventually confided that he was in love with Beth, Josef hadn't been surprised. Hell, **everyone **already knew that except Mick. "Damn blockhead," he muttered, taking another gulp - wine, this time.

Fast-forward to the present. Officially together for a scant three weeks - though, as far as he was concerned, the two had been a couple for much longer - this woman was literally willing to bleed for Mick, to slice her own flesh and feed him, in order to save his life. If that wasn't love... well, then, love didn't exist.

Josef paused his personal thought train, sipping more wine as he contemplated... love. He sighed. That emotion hadn't been particularly kind to **him**. 350 years to find it, less than a year to lose it - lose his Sarah. Having had that time with Sarah - and having lost it - made him fiercely protective of Mick and 'his' Beth. He was truly happy for his friend. As much crap as Mick had gone through, the man was due some measure of happiness.

As for he, himself, he'd pretty much given up. In fact, he'd resigned himself to his ultimate aloneness... to the point where he didn't even realize he was no longer looking for someone. When it came to his love life and intimate indulgences, Josef Kostan was what was popularly referred to as a "player." He never misrepresented himself to anyone - every girl knew what was up going in. And bless them, every one of them seemed to have a good time.

Women loved being his freshies, as well they should. He pampered them, compensated them amply, treated them very well - and if anyone had had enough, fine. There was a waiting list of young, beautiful replacements, eager to fill any open slots. He was king of his own court, humans and vampires alike vying for his attention, approval or assistance.

So how the hell had one slender attorney from the Valley gotten to him?

Sure, Simone was very attractive - but for him, that was a given. Yes, she was highly educated and accomplished as were many of the countesses, duchesses, academics, and myriad other groups of women he'd dabbled in. _What can I say, I'm a sucker for smart, gorgeous women._

She'd already proven herself as a lawyer, and, with her amazingly intuitive understanding of his nature, she'd quickly become his favorite. Never jealous of his freshies, content and secure in her own position with him, Simone was a rare joy. There was no need to hide any aspect of himself from her - she either suspected, or knew outright, and didn't appear to be bothered in the slightest.

_She knew... she knew, and didn't care..._.

He'd uttered those words about Sarah. Simone, however, could not be more different than his doomed love. Yet, the attraction was both undeniable - and confusing. And maybe that is what perplexed him most about her. Even offering her up to Mick for a quick sip that night in his penthouse hadn't fazed her. She just accepted it as she had everything else. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. He grinned. The girl did have just the right amount of kink.

Still, she was more than a pretty face with a healthy... appetite. She was industrious, ingenious, and a real bulldog once she got going. Her level head and tenaciousness in acquiring Mick's desperately needed medications, not to mention in dealing with him, were notable and rare traits, as was her maddening lack of jealousy - at least, so far.

If she didn't mind freshies, then why was he suddenly afraid of her finding out that he and Gabrielle had kissed? _Because this __**wasn't **__a freshie - you betrayed her_. Josef groaned loudly and kicked the ottoman in frustration, sending it skidding off the exquisite Oriental rug and across the polished oak floor beyond.

The deep unrest in his gut caused by that unsettling feeling was a foreign sensation - and one he quite disliked. Josef Kostan answered to no one. Okay, maybe occasionally to a certain mother hen younger vampire, but that was different. **That**was really by choice.

A final sip of wine emptied the crystal goblet - and ended his introspection. Despite his attempted glibness, he could not deny that Simone was something special. Perhaps more special than he was ready for her to be.

The plane had barely taken off before Gabrielle and John had words.

Spector was not young and he was exhausted and short-tempered after the pressure-filled, marathon days he had put in at Temecula, coupled with the bi-coastal flights and time zone changes. After a heated exchange with Gabby, during which he had called her a sharp-toothed witch, he apologized.

"I'm so sorry, Gabrielle, I shouldn't have said that! This has been very tiring - and stressful. I- I just need to get some sleep." His hands shook slightly as he lifted a cup of coffee to his lips.

Gabrielle unbuckled her seat belt and moved over to the physician, crouching down next to his seat. She put a hand on his arm, noticing that he flinched when she did. _He really is a mess._

With a gentle touch on his forearm, she said comfortingly, "It's already forgotten, John. I was being testy as well. I'm all tied up in knots over everything that's happened. After everything you've done for V and for Mick..." She paused, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. "There's nothing you could say or do that would make me angry at you. You are a rock star."

Impulsively, she reached up to hug him, frowning as Spector stiffened and pulled away. Gabby sat back on her heels, pinning him with her dark eyes. "What's going on?"

"I- I'm so sorry, Gabrielle. It's not you. I'm just so on edge after all this. You must have noticed how Josef Kostan treated me. Obviously, the man didn't trust me. I felt threatened the whole time I was there. And, for the first time, it occurred to me..." He hesitated.

"What, John? What is it?"

"It occurred to me how dangerous a position I'm in," he blurted out.

"Go on."

"Gabrielle, you're smart and savvy. You **have** to know that my place in Victoria's organization is precarious. I'm working with vampires, most of who, like Mr. Kostan, don't trust humans, and have a tendency to be... volatile."

Not sure how his comment would be accepted, he eyed her uneasily before continuing. "And, when you think about it, with what appears to be happening, I am being called into ever more tenuous situations. Even though I did absolutely everything I could, I, myself, was not at **all **sure Mr. St. John would survive. And, if he hadn't, I'm sure Mr. Kostan would have blamed me - and probably would have tried to kill me."

The physician scrubbed at his beard in frustration. "Look, I **want **to do this...but, I'm just not sure I can keep on, Gabrielle. I **do** understand the suspicion and hostility. I'm not sure I wouldn't feel the same if I were in their - your - place. The irony of it is that I **know** I can learn things and be of help. But, while I'm obviously willing to go to great lengths to help the vampire race, I'm not so altruistic as to want to **die **for it. "

"John, I would **never **let anything happen to you!" Gabby didn't bother trying to dissuade him from his opinion of Josef. After her conversation with the elder vampire before they left Temecula, she wasn't sure that Spector's assessment was all that inaccurate.

Gabrielle took both of his hands in hers. "I want you to listen to me very carefully. I can never fully repay you for what you've done - saving Victoria and Mick. They are both very dear to me. I can promise you this though - I will never let any harm come to you from vampires. **Never,**" she repeated firmly. "You have my word on it. Okay?"

"All right, Gabrielle. I trust you." His tired eyes stared unblinkingly into hers as she squeezed his hands.

"Good. You should. Now, get some sleep. I'm sure there will be a lot to do when we get to New York." With a final pat on the physician's shoulder, Gabby returned to her seat.

Spector reclined his seat and settled back with a sigh, closing his eyes. Gabrielle may not be able to provide the protection she had promised, but the fact that he now had a guardian gave him some measure of peace…

_**For the **__**complete**__** Chapter 20, Threads, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber(.com)?sid=14&chapter=22**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	23. Chapter 21, Frayed

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence…

Chapter 21, Frayed synopsis:

_**Relationships begin to unravel as questions mount in the aftermath of the attack in the desert. In California, Carl Davis decides to confront Jamie Sommers to uncover the secrets she is hiding, while Ben Talbot plots with his mentor to use the attack to make political gains. Sequestered at Temecula with Beth and his friends, Mick continues his slow recuperation, not yet able to resume his investigation. Christophe Durand, aided by his son Adam in Chicago, leads his terrified second-in-command to a final tragic discovery that brings him to the brink of madness. **_

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only, due to chapter length. The ****complete**** chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****Reviews, after all, are what make the world go 'round…and cause writers to write…and write…and write…**

**Chapter 21**

**FRAYED**

Intro: "The Ghost of You" by My Chemical Romance

"No, I'm **not** overreacting, Christophe!" Giles paced his living room, waving his hands in the air to punctuate his words, even though the man he was talking to couldn't see him. "Rebecca is never late calling me on Fridays, not even by ten minutes...and now it's been almost twelve hours!"

On the other end of the call, Durand, still in his bathrobe after a late night spent plotting and strategizing with his son, tried to calm his second-in-command. "John, there have been no reports of any 'incidents' in Chicago, right? If there have been, **I **certainly wasn't informed of them. Rebecca's had a lot on her plate since she went there. I'm guessing she just fell asleep or something. Why do you always think the worst?"

"Maybe because we kill vampires, Christophe," John replied icily. "That puts us just a little more at risk than, let's say, the local librarian, wouldn't you agree?" It took all his willpower to refrain from throwing the phone across the room.

Giles had been up all night, waiting for word on his wife. After receiving the okay from Durand the previous evening, he had called the head of their Chicago office. The man had been no help, professing to have no information as to her whereabouts. One of the field agents said she had left the office late, headed for the parking garage and her car. No one had seen, or heard from her, since, leaving him no choice but to wait it out.

As the hours had ticked by, he had first drank whiskey, but then switched to coffee when it became obvious to him that she was not going to show up. He needed to be sober and clear-headed. Rebecca would need - and expect - that of him. She **deserved** that much. He had resolved to go to Chicago to search for her, himself. With - or without - Durand's approval.

"Sarcasm will not help your cause, John - and it certainly won't help Rebecca. I would recommend that you watch your tone with me - missing wife or no missing wife." The threat in Durand's tone was crystal clear.

John sank down onto the plush couch, resting his forehead in one hand, abject misery written on his face. "What am I going to do, Christophe?" he whispered. "She's my whole life. You know that."

"Yes, I do, John." Durand acknowledged. "And we will do everything in our power to find her. We **will** find her - and, when we do, I think we'll find that you really over-reacted," he lied smoothly. "Look, you get on the next flight to Chicago. I'll take care of letting everyone there know you're coming, and I'll have Brian Stewart pick you up at the airport. You two know each other, right?"

Giles caught himself nodding mutely into the phone. "Ye-" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, I know Brian."

"Good! Well, you call him or text him when you know what time you are getting in. I'll call ahead to ensure that everything is arranged - and to make it clear to the team that they are to provide you with whatever assistance you might need. I'm sure, though, that by the time you're in the air, Rebecca will be calling you!"

Giles couldn't muster the energy to respond to Durand's comments before he hung up. His gut told him that something quite different would happen and he could feel the pulse pounding in his temples as his imagination ran away with him. Rebecca captured by vampires. Rebecca tortured by the crazed humans that supported and protected the monsters. Rebecca lying dead, her blood drained... **"NO!"**

Frantically, he jumped up, and this time he **did** fling the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into dozens of plastic pieces, one of which bounced back and hit him just above the eye, drawing blood. As he pulled out his handkerchief to dab at the small cut, he couldn't help thinking that it was a bad omen._ Blood... _Shaking off the images that single word conjured up, he grabbed the small overnight bag he had packed, and hurried out the door.

Pausing in the hall, John looked back in at the neat, tidy apartment. The space was pleasant - but it was his wife that made it a home. _If anything happened to Rebecca, I'm never coming back here. _With that thought, he locked the door and ran for the elevator.

Having seen Josef settled into one of her guest rooms for some much-needed freezer time before his return trip to California, Victoria went in search of her second-in-command. She found the younger vampire gloomily drinking blood in the small study off her bedroom.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Victoria leaned against it, motionless, until Gabrielle finally looked up.

"What the **fuck** was that about?" the vampire leader asked quietly. The lack of volume did nothing to diminish the anger her question carried. "You kill our only witness? In front of the whole Council?"

"V, I'm **sorry**. I know I was out of li-"

Victoria held up her hand, silencing Gabby. "I don't want to hear it. Out of line? We're fighting for the whole vampire nation here. You saw how those idiots were looking for any excuse to walk away from this problem - and you almost gave them one!"

Gabrielle couldn't look at her mentor. She slumped in her chair, her stiletto pumps digging into the thick carpet as she studied the blood in her glass.

Victoria continued. "This is much bigger than just you or me, Gabby. I thought you understood that. If Josef hadn't shown up, things would have gone very differently. He gave a huge boost to our credibility when we needed it most. What if-"

"I get it, V!" Gabrielle burst out, straightening in her chair. "I know I was an embarrassment to you - and to Josef. I'm **sorry**. It's just... When that man started in, calling us monsters, refusing to tell what he knew, I couldn't **help** myself. I pictured what that bastard's people did to Mick and I...I just saw red. I know that isn't a good excuse - but you should have **seen **Mick when I first laid eyes on him, V. It was horrible, maybe the worst thing I've ever seen." The tears she had held back until that moment, spilled over, slipping down her face.

Victoria's arresting blue eyes studied the distraught woman dispassionately. "Are you in **love **with him, Gabrielle?"

"What?" Startled by the unexpected question, Gabby sniffed and swiped at her cheeks before responding, "In love with Mick? No!" She tried to gather her composure. "I mean, I do love the guy, he's great - but I'm not **in** love with him. He's more like a brother to me. Besides, he has a girlfriend, remember?"

The older vampire waved the comment off. "A human girlfriend. Human relationships with vampires don't last. You should know that."

Gabrielle's lips compressed in anger and her eyes flashed. Adamantly, she insisted, "This is different, V. I met Beth in California and I saw them together. They are very much in love...and she would do **anything **for him." An image appeared in her mind - Beth leaning over Mick, feeding him from the gash she had cut in her own arm with the razor-sharp scalpel she still clutched in one white-knuckled hand...

"Well, she'd do anything except become one of us, apparently."

Bristling, Gabby blurted, "You don't know that, V. You don't even know if Mick would **want **her to turn. None of us know."

"As they used to say, the proof is in the pudding, Gabrielle. But look, what happens between Mick St. John and his freshie girlfriend is up to the two of them."

Victoria moved over to sit down in the chair next to her subordinate. "I **did** talk to Josef and he told me how bad things were out there - and for him to say that...well..." she shrugged. "I'm trying to take that into consideration, but what you did in there... that was a fuck-up of gargantuan proportions."

She hated raking Gabrielle over the coals like this, but only she and Josef knew how close the younger woman had come to being executed for her actions. The Council had seen a loose cannon, a vampire that couldn't even control herself in front of a group of her elders.

"She's a danger to vampires' anonymity and safety, a danger to all of us. I'm surprised at you for keeping her around, Victoria," Craig had lectured with a sinister smile.

Germaine was aware that she and Gabby were close, Victoria knew, and she suspected that a large part of his 'concern' came from a sincere desire to wound her in some fashion. She had fought back - but it hadn't been easy.

Cloistered with the Council after the open meeting, Victoria had needed to use all of her considerable powers of persuasion to convince them that this was not typical behavior, that Gabby was an extremely valuable asset to the community at a time when they needed her most. Josef had, once again, stepped in to help, personally vouching for Gabrielle's behavior.

The last thing Victoria wanted to do, however, was divulge all this. She, alone, knew how fragile the Asian woman's self-esteem really was and she feared that the knowledge would be such a blow to Gabby that she would leave the New York community. _How do I make her see how important this is?_

"You just **can't **screw up like that again, Gabrielle. It won't be tolerated."_ It's not me, Gabby, it's them._

"I know, V." Gabby gripped the armrests of her chair tightly. "Do you want me to leave?" she whispered miserably.

"No, Gabrielle. I need you - now, more than ever. And I care about you, you know that." Victoria leaned forward to put her hand on the other woman's knee. _Lord, help me get through to her. _"We've been together a long time, you and I, and I have great faith in you and your abilities. But, Gabrielle, hear me now. If anything like this ever happens again, you are gone. Do you understand me?"

Gabby's long, black hair hung down on either side of her face, shielding her sudden look of anger. _How __**dare **__she? After I've saved her life...and Hugo's... _Curling her small hands into fists, she fought for control.

The hardest part of being a vampire, to Gabrielle, was keeping the extreme emotional swings and volatility under still remembered the first time she had really lost her temper after being turned. There had been a white-hot flash of anger, an almost physical sensation of being swept up. When she had come to her senses, three humans were dead. Since that time, Gabby, like most vampires she knew, had worked hard to master her emotions. Those efforts stood her in good stead now, as she tamped down her anger.

Tossing her glossy hair back, Gabrielle met her leader's stare with her own steady gaze, her eyes now dry and clear. "I understand, V. I won't let you down again," she said evenly.

"I know you won't." Victoria smiled winningly. "I also know you've had some long days. I'll let you get to your freezer." With a squeeze of Gabby's knee, she relinquished her grip on the younger vampire and stood to leave.

At the door, Victoria paused, looking back thoughtfully at the youthful-appearing woman sitting with a tall glass of ruby liquid gripped tightly in both hands. "This is forgotten, you know. Behind us. I won't bring it up again - not unless something else..." She caught herself. "It's over, that's all."

_Bitch! _ Out loud, Gabrielle said only, "Thank you, V."

"Damn it!"

Carl flung back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed, reluctantly giving up on the idea of sleep. After a few fitful hours of disturbing dreams, he had been awakened by a nightmare image of Mick St. John, advancing toward him across the desert, his hands struggling unsuccessfully to keep his organs in place, in spite of the gaping wound in his abdomen.

He remembered wincing as the P.I.'s intestines slid out through his fingers and trailed on the ground behind him as he continued his slow, painful approach. His eyes were the eerie blue Carl had seen when he cradled the injured man in his arms. As Mick was reaching a bloody hand toward him, the detective had awakened with a start, bolting upright in a cold sweat.

He had been tossing and turning ever since the nightmare, sleep an elusive prize. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure he wanted to go back to sleep - not if it meant risking a repeat of that dream... **_To be continued at Cape and Saber_**

_**For the **__**complete**__** Chapter 21, Frayed, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber**** (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=23**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the newly-renovated site while you're there.**_

_**Stop by the chat room and get acquainted!**_


	24. Chapter 22, Premonitions

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and violence…

Chapter 22, Premonitions synopsis:

_**Mick St. John receives good news from Dr. Spector - with conditions that don't sit well with the vampire. Neither does news about what really happened in New York, which causes him to later confront Gabrielle Sinclair. **_

_**Beth Turner reaches out to reconnect with friends and prepare to return to work, even while her mind entertains darker questions regarding Ben Talbot. The ADA is basking in the glow of his recent success, and surprises Jamie Sommers with an altruistic act that, unknown to him, is potentially dangerous for the young Auxilum agent. Carl Davis' questions, about Jamie and all that has happened, are mounting, as is his fixation on the oddly marked silver bullet in his possession. **_

_**All the while, Christophe Durand has put his plans for John Giles in motion, with a special twist. His son Adam has ideas of his own - ideas that may ultimately lead to conflict with his father…and more threats for the vampire community.**_

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a partial posting only, due to chapter length. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. Reviews, after all, are what make the world go 'round…and cause writers to write…and write…and write…**

**Chapter 22**

**Premonitions**

**Intro: "I Don't Need No Doctor" by John Scofield**

"So, doc, what's the verdict?"

John Spector sat down with the couple, his keen eyes noting the vise grip Beth kept on Mick's hand. Her devotion to the vampire was admirable. Whether it was misplaced... _That's not for me to say. _

The physician nodded with apparent satisfaction. "From what I can tell, it looks like you're well on the road to recovery. But mind you, I don't exactly have a vampire physician's desk reference." His expression grew serious. "For the next week, Mick, you need to continue to take it easy. Freezer, blood and no sunlight. Keep 'vampire hours'. No major exertion. No physical strain."

Spector hesitated, unsure about how specific to make his instructions. "Rest is the order of the day here...and that means... **very** limited extracurricular activities."

Mick protested vehemently. "I feel almost back to normal. Why all these restrictions?"

He was appreciative of all the physician's efforts - from what Josef and Beth had told him, there was no doubt that his and Guillermo's work had saved his life. But it had been a full week since Spector had left California for New York. During that time, he'd followed the physician's dictates to the letter. He'd had no choice, of course - Beth had seen to that. Never a man to sit still for long, however, he'd had about enough of doing nothing. He was ready - more than ready - to go home. And the first order of business would be to track down those responsible for the ambush and exact revenge. _An eye for an eye... _

John cleared his throat to get his patient's attention. "Mick, even with everything we did, and all the silver I extracted from your abdomen and chest, there was no **way** to get all of it. You must understand. When those bullets exploded, they propelled minute granules and silver dust throughout your body. You need time to combat it and eliminate it from your system."

"How long?" Mick chafed at the thought of yet more limitations and restrictions.

"However long it takes." The physician's tone was exasperated.

Beth spoke up. "Dr. Spector, it was so kind of you to come all the way back to California to check Mick. I know you and Gabby had an early flight out. I'm sorry he's being so **difficult**!" She tossed a glare in the general direction of the vampire in question, her look clearly saying, "_You are in __**so**__ much trouble later..._"

"My pleasure, Beth. I wanted to see for myself how Mick was doing. As far as I'm concerned, he's a walking miracle. It's just too bad that I can't write up his case for a peer-reviewed journal." Turning back to his patient, he added, "Sadly, I don't think the medical world is ready for you yet, Mick."

"Well, I'm not ready for **them**, either," Mick shot back. "Now, could we get back to our discussion? I want to be sure I understand exactly what you mean by 'no physical strain'." He needed to know how hard he could push himself. The plain truth was that, although he would never admit to it, he felt a lot weaker than he was willing to let on, especially to Beth.

It worried him.

He might be a relatively inexperienced youngster by the standards of old vampires like Josef and Victoria, but he was a very savvy private investigator. He recognized a conspiracy when he smelled one - and the situation in New York stunk to high heaven. He could sense that Josef wasn't telling him everything - whether because he was still convalescing or because of Kostan's always secretive nature, he couldn't be sure. It was one of the reasons he was doing his best to hide his lingering weakness.

The other reason was Beth.

Over the past week, he had watched her begin to regain the feisty, sunny nature he so loved. It seemed obvious to him that she was recovering because **he** was. Mick did not intend to let anything get in the way of her progress. _Especially not me._

So, he hid how weary he was after very little exertion, how painful the huge incision still was, how even the smallest hint of sunshine felt like sharp knives piercing him...

_Just how long do you think you can keep this up? _"As long as I need to," he muttered, not realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"What?" his human companions asked simultaneously.

Thinking fast, he answered, "I was agreeing with you, Dr. Spector - for as long as it takes. I know I need to be a better patient."

"Uh-huh," Beth said skeptically, eyeing him closely.

Mick had the feeling that she could see right through him and knew what he was thinking. It was unsettling.

Misinterpreting the vampire's uneasy expression, the older man leaned forward. "You need to understand, this is not **punitive**, Mick. After all, I'm not trying to restrict you until you acquire some **sense, **for god's sake. **That **might take forever, from what I can tell!" He smiled to take the sting out of his words. "It is just that your body was so compromised by all you went through, you have to be careful. While working through this final healing stage, I believe you will be much more vulnerable than normal. However, you are the first vampire I'm aware of who has survived such trauma and I'm feeling my way here - hence the more onerous, and perhaps more difficult, restrictions."

His comments were met with blank stares. "Do you understand me, you two?"

"So," Mick began, "when you say 'restricted', does that include... I mean, you know... "

The physician shook his head. The unspoken message behind St. John's words was not lost on him. Prior conversations with the vampire on this topic, before he left Temecula the first time, had not been well-received either - even when he was much weaker than he was now. Spector was not surprised that, as Mick felt better, he balked more loudly. In some areas, vampires and humans were so much alike - especially males.

"NO SEX, MICK... and Beth..." He turned to the young woman apologetically, hoping that he would have better luck impressing her with the importance of his counsel.

Mick considered his words carefully. "Could you please clarify what you mean by sex... I mean... isn't there... **anything**... we can do?"

"NOOOTHIIING." Spector dragged out the word. "It's not about the **type** of sex, it's about the stress **any **strong physical exertion puts on your body..."

Beth stared incredulously at Mick. The conversation was too much for her to take.

"Wha... are... are you serious? You took HOW MANY bullets... your **guts** were all over the **table**... it took two men **hours** to pull silver out of you... you were in a cold freezer for days... you almost DIED... and... and... YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT WHETHER WE CAN FU-"

"BETH!" Mick bellowed, stopping her screed, but not the daggers her eyes threw at him. **Those**, he felt.

After an awkward silence, Spector slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. "**Okay**, then. I think my work here is done!" He chuckled, his amusement catching Mick and Beth up in its net. In a moment, they were all laughing, giddy with relief.

"And, Beth," Dr. Spector said when he had regained his composure, walking over to her to pick up her free hand and look in her eyes. "I can see that you are the person I should address. If you continue to watch over him just as I have seen you do the whole time I've been around you - he'll be fine."

Mick leaned over toward them. "But, seriously, doc... I mean... nothing? Nothing at all? Not even..."

"Oh for the love of god - NO!" Spector roared. "No sex! **No** intercourse, **no** oral sex, **no **masturbation... NOTHING! THERE! Have I made myself sufficiently clear?"

"You heard the man." Beth smiled mischievously. "And, more importantly, so did I. No touchy, no feelly."

Mick looked deadly serious. "But, for how **long**?"

Spector sighed theatrically. Obviously, the vampire was not going to leave this alone.

"All right, Mick. Here's the deal. **One week**. One week of no significant stimulation of any kind - not physical, not emotional. No exposure to the sun, no stress. I want you to be bored. Watch every movie you've been meaning to watch, read every book you've been meaning to get around to. Kiss Beth. Kiss her every hour of every day, if you like. But **NOTHING** more. If you do that - for one week..." He shook his index finger in exasperation. "**One week**... then you can go back to normal activities - whatever qualifies as 'normal' for vampires." He paused. "And, it goes without saying, that I** sincerely** hope normal for you does **not **include the type of activities that got you into this shape in the first place."

The physician folded his arms, standing over Mick for a moment, peering down at him intently, then decided to take it a step further. "Now, just so you know, I am also going to repeat these instructions to Josef, to Logan, to Guillermo, to Gabrielle... hell, to **anyone** I encounter between here and New York City! So, everyone will know if you try to overstep your boundaries."

Beth laughed, jabbing carefully at the crestfallen vampire's shoulder. "I think he's got you there, **stud**. You are not having sex for another week - at least, not with me!"

Mick glanced at Beth with a wicked grin., his eyes sparkling. He couldn't resist poking some fun at her. "Sooo... not with **you**..."

"Don't even think about going there!" she threatened, laughter just under the surface.

The injured man sighed theatrically. "Still seems a little extreme to me," he grumbled.

"Well, you were a fairly extreme case," Spector observed dryly. He turned his attentions to the seemingly more sensible member of the duo. "Now, I have to go meet with Mr. Kostan, so let me take your stitches out, Beth."

The New York physician moved over to take her still-bandaged wrist in his lap. As he unwound the gauze, he said, "I want you to take care of yourself too, young lady. Get a good night's sleep in a real bed. Eat something."

Mick snorted. "Good luck with that, John. If you think **I'm** a bad patient..." He trailed off as he caught her look of wrath. "Tit for tat, Beth! You **haven't** been sleeping or eating well, even **I **know that."

The physician's head, bent over her wrist as he began clipping the stitches, shot up. "Not sleeping, are you? Nightmares?" His voice was gentle.

Beth flushed, fidgeting over the disclosure. _How did Mick know?_

"Hold still, please!" John commanded. He continued speaking as he concentrated on removing the loosened stitches with the tweezers in his hand. "Beth, there's no shame in admitting you are having a few difficulties. You went through a very traumatic experience just as Mick did. It would not be surprising for there to be some aftereffects. If you like, I can prescribe something to help you sleep."

She frowned. "I've never been a fan of medicating sleep."

"And, in general, that is an attitude I would support. I'm suggesting it just for a few days, to get you back into a more normal rhythm."

"Listen to the doctor, Beth. It won't hurt you." Mick's voice was full of regret. It was his fault that she was scarred - mentally, as well as physically.

John Spector looked up with a smile. "Yes, listen to me, Beth. Mr. St. John is better at doling out advice than he is at taking it, isn't he?" He was rewarded with a genuine smile from his patient. Releasing her hand, he announced, "All done. It looks good - healing very well. I'm sorry though; I'm afraid, you may have a small scar there."

Beth shrugged as she lifted her arm and inspected the thin red line of new skin that had formed where she had cut herself to feed Mick. In comparison to what Mick had endured, this seemed so trivial.

"I wasn't planning on a career as a hand model anyway. Thank you so much, John. For everything." Impulsively, she leaned over to hug him, smiling brightly over his shoulder at Mick.

"Thank you, my dear, for the privilege of getting to know you. I will leave you a prescription for a sleep aid - you can decide for yourself whether or not to use it. Your vampire's going to be fine, so you can afford to go off the clock a little." Spector leaned over to kiss her cheek. He had been genuinely touched by the depth of commitment she had shown Mick throughout his ordeal.

"Yessir," she answered meekly.

"Now Mick," the physician said as he offered his hand to his patient, who stood to shake it. "If you won't take care of yourself for **you**, then do it for Beth. I don't think **she** can take another episode like this either." He smiled toward the grateful young woman. "I'll see both of you later. I understand Josef has something special planned for tomorrow night. I'm intrigued."

"Josef now, huh? That's quite a step up from Mr. Kostan," Beth teased. "When did that happen?"

"I believe we have reached an... understanding." Spector smiled. "I know I feel better now about our relationship." _At least I don't feel like he might rip my throat out every ten minutes... that's a major improvement. _He excused himself and went off to find their host.

After the physician left, Beth moved over to stand in front of Mick. "So... I don't sleep, huh? And how, exactly, would you know that, Mr. St. John, if you are staying where you are supposed to?" Her arms were crossed, her breath escaping in small, visible puffs in the frigid air.

The vampire raised one eyebrow. "You **do** have quite a fan club, you know. And, this room is like Grand Central Station. I don't have to leave it to know what's going on. I **am** a P.I., you know," he added archly.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting." Beth giggled as she sidestepped a sudden grab from Mick. "Sorry, I call 'em like I see 'em."

"I'll remember that the next time you want me to help you with a case."

"Don't you have it backward? Seems to me like you usually want **my **help on cases, Mr. P.I.!"

Mick was grinning broadly now. It was good just to be able to joke and laugh - for a while, it had seemed like he'd almost forgotten how. From the smile on Beth's face, he guessed that she felt the same. Changing topics, he asked, "So, what's on your schedule for today?"

"Well, according to you and John, I guess I need to go eat and take a nap!" Beth laughed. "If I'm going to keep up with partying vampires tomorrow night, I'll need some rest. And, I guess," she paused, thinking, "I'd better figure out something to wear. Maybe I can hit up Josef's 'Closet of Shame' again."

Mick guffawed. "Between you, Simone, and Gabby, aren't the pickings getting sort of slim?"

Beth sighed. "Probably. I'll come up with something though. Oh, and, speaking of her, I need to go find Gabby!"

"Well, when you do, tell her I'm looking for her too."

"Will do." She leaned in for a quick kiss. "Okay, I have things to do - and, from the looks of things, you could use some sleep too."

"Gee, thanks. Is that code for 'you look like hell'?"

"Mick, given what you've been through, looking like hell is a big improvement!" She stripped off a mitten to reach up and touch his stiff curls. Resting her hand on the back of his neck, she rubbed it gently. "It's going to be wonderful to get you back home and get things back to normal."

Reluctantly, she removed her hand and pulled her mitten back on. It was always difficult to leave Mick when he was in this room. He seemed so vulnerable, so... mortal. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she announced, "Okay, I'll be back later. I need to call Alison and Marisa and find Gabby." Depositing one more kiss on the vampire's cold lips, Beth whispered, "I love you," before heading out the door.

Mick let her go, keeping his reservations about their lives ever returning to normal to himself. He **did **need rest - but first...

The P.I. eased off the bench with a frown and reached for his clothes. Something had been nagging at him and it was time he got some answers from Josef Kostan…

* * *

_**For the complete Chapter 22, Premonitions, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=24**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the site while you're there – just watch out for the ladders, we are undergoing some renovations…**_

_**Stop by the always-open chat room and get acquainted!**_


	25. Chapter 23, Temecula

Please note that this chapter is rated M for strong language and sexually explicit scenes…

Chapter 23, Temecula synopsis:

_**It is a time of celebration at Temecula as Josef Kostan throws a 'thank you' party for all involved in the rescue of Mick St. John. Both blood and wine flow freely as vampires and humans meet and mingle, with humorous, tender and, at times, raucous results. New relationships are formed, while existing ones are strengthened and sometimes tested - especially when Mick's present meets his past. However, the Saturday night is not fun for all, as Carl Davis, alone in his home, reflects on all that has happened - and makes plans to further his investigation. **_

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from our outstanding, committed (and possibly committ**able**) betas, treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a partial posting only, due to chapter length, which, for this chapter, runs about 60 pages. The complete chapter can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. Reviews, after all, are what make the world go 'round…and cause writers to write…and write…and write…**

_**Chapter 23**_

**Temecula**

_**Intro: "Man I Feel Like A Woman" by Shania Twain**_

"Oh my god," Beth whimpered. "I can't take any more of this. Just let me die now."

Simone opened one eye and grinned at her from her position across the room, flat on her stomach on a massage table. "Rodolfo's the best, isn't he?"

"Gee, thanks, girlie!" her masseur protested, giving her shoulder muscles an extra hard dig.

"Ouch! Except for you! **Except for you**, Collier!" Simone wiggled and twisted under the young man's strong hands.

Rodolfo said nothing, but just shook his head and smiled at their antics as he continued to work away at Beth, kneading and stroking tired muscles with his capable hands, adjusting the sheet covering her as he worked.

"You are very tense, Miss Turner," he said quietly. "Is your neck bothering you?"

"Not anymore," Beth sighed happily, laying her head back down and closing her eyes. The afternoon was passing with blissful slowness as the two women were primped and pampered, courtesy of Josef Kostan's thoughtfulness.

It had started with an elaborate – and late - breakfast for the two women on the sunny terrace. Wrapped in a soft, luxurious, ice-blue cashmere robe that had been at the foot of her bed when she awoke, Beth had, at first, been embarrassed at how late she had slept.

Finding Simone already ensconced on the terrace with a steaming mug of black coffee, she had confided her feelings. "Don't be!" the lawyer had exclaimed. "After all you've been through the past couple of weeks, don't you **dare **beat yourself up over a couple of extra hours of sleep." The thin brunette had looked stunning in a similar robe in a deep crimson color.

"So, what's going on, Simone?"

"I don't exactly know. Josef woke me up this morning to tell me that he had plans for the two of us today and that we should start out here for breakfast." She had shrugged and taken another gulp of the strong coffee as Beth sat down opposite her. "Honestly, it's so beautiful out here, I could sit on this veranda all day and be happy."

Beth had agreed. The terrace, with its beautiful vistas and peaceful atmosphere, had become her favorite spot at the vineyard over the past fortnight - an escape from the cold reality of the freezer room. "It's hard to believe that we are going to leave here tomorrow. I feel like I've been here forever. It's honestly hard to remember what the real world is like."

"Not as nice as this," her companion had retorted. "I can tell you, I'm going to drag Josef here more now that I know how beautiful this place is."

"You'd never been here before?"

"Nope." Simone's thick brown mane had swirled around her shoulders as she shook her head vigorously. "I knew about it, of course. I helped with the purchase before I started to work for him - in fact, that's how we met. Fitting, huh? I was working for another firm, representing the seller, but in true Kostan fashion, he lured me away." She smiled at the memory of a persuasive Josef, convincing her to come to work for him.

"I didn't know that's how you met. Did the vineyard look like this then?" Beth looked around the beautiful room appreciatively.

"Lord, no. It was a mess! At the time, I thought he was **crazy** to be paying so much for it. But...that was before I really knew Josef. He had big plans, kept saying he wanted it to look like a place he remembered from when he was young. As a human, I mean," she clarified. "So, there's been something under construction or some renovation going on ever since – until now."

"How long has he owned it?" Beth had cursed her inquisitive nature, but she could no more stop herself from asking questions than she could stop breathing.

"Over two years."

"Two years! And, he'd never stayed here before now?" Beth's tone was incredulous.

Simone had met her gaze with an indulgent smile. "No, just visits to meet with his vineyard master or to check on the progress of renovations. Come on, Beth, you know Josef pretty well by now. You can see what a perfectionist he is. I mean, look how long it took him to rebuild his **office**, for crying out loud – and this was a whole estate!"

"I suppose," Beth had acknowledged doubtfully.

Simone had reached across the café-style table to put her hand on the young woman's. "You have to remember that Josef – and Mick, for that matter – has all the time in the world. They're immortal. So…" She shrugged. "What are a few years to get it right?" She had given Beth's hand a friendly squeeze before withdrawing her own.

Her comments had stuck with Beth while the two women finished their breakfast. What must it feel like to have eternity stretching in front of you, with no need to hurry or try to cram too much living into too small a block of time? And, Josef… he could look back on so many years, so many changes, so many experiences... _So many relationships._

Beth had shivered, thinking of how many humans Josef must have said goodbye to in his centuries of life. _And what about Mick? _How many loved ones had **he** lost so far? The evening he had remembered his hallucination involving his brother, Mick had talked long into the night about him. Tears had slipped silently down his face as he told her about hearing that Mitchell had died. So much pain… _Are you going to make him go through that again - with __**you**__?_

Beth had shoved the thought away. She had told Mick that she wasn't ready to join his world after the Monaghans were executed for Emma's defiant threat to expose the entire vampire community. Did she still feel that way? _I don't know_. Many things were different now and she was no longer as sure of her answer. What she **was** sure of, however, was that she just wasn't up to dealing with that thorny issue right now. Not after all that had happened.

"You are tensing up again, Miss Turner. Is something hurting you?"

Rodolfo's voice broke through the funk she was falling into_. Remember what Josef said – there is no room for bad news or problems this weekend._She was determined to follow that dictate.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what my problem is. You are doing a great job."

"**I** know what the problem is." Simone chirped. "She's spent most of the past two weeks in freezing temperatures, hardly eaten, hasn't slept… if you can fix all **that**, Rodolfo, you really do have the magic hands Josef claims you do."

"I **do **have magic hands, just like Mr. Josef says… but it sounds like Miss Turner might need divine intervention – and, despite what you might think, given how I look, I am not a god," the older man responded with a wry smile.

Everyone laughed.

Fifteen minutes later, the masseurs had disappeared into the house, leaving the two women stretched out with hot rocks placed on strategic spots along their spine, soothing music playing in the background.

"I could get used to this," Beth murmured sleepily. Rodolfo may not be a god, but she was willing to attribute god-like qualities to him right now. She had not felt this relaxed since_…_well, she couldn't remember when.

"Mmmmm," Simone responded, her lips curving into a smile. "Thank you, Josef." A determinedly pragmatic young woman, she had already put the events of the past ten days behind her. It was unproductive to dwell on them. If more trouble was ahead, it would find them soon enough. In the meantime, she intended to take advantage of Josef's largess.

Within a few minutes, both women had fallen asleep, lulled by the soft music, comfortable massage tables, and completely relaxed muscles. Rodolfo and Collier may not be gods, but they were almost certainly wizards.

* * *

Mick, stripped down to boxers and a robe after a hot shower, a habit from his time as a human that he found impossible to break, sat in a leather recliner in Josef's private study, watching his friend experience similar bliss under Rodolfo's talented hands.

"Sure you don't want to partake?" Josef's voice was muffled, coming from a face hidden in cool towels as he lay on his stomach to allow his masseur to work on tight back, and neck, muscles.

"Um, how would I do that, Josef?" Mick shot back, gesturing toward his chest where the raw evidence of his recent brush with death was visible above the robe's belting at his waist. "Somehow, I don't think it would feel too good to lie on my stomach right now."

His tone was testy; truth be told, he was envious of his friend's indulgence. If he could have figured out how to get it done without causing pain, he'd be on the table next to Josef right now – but he certainly couldn't** lie **on his stomach and the thought of Rodolfo's or Collier's hard hands massaging his chest if he were on his back, made him wince, especially now that Dr. Spector had removed him from all morphine.

"Don't pout," Josef scolded, raising his head. "It's not becoming. We'll think of something else for you to do." He paused, his lips twitching in amusement. "Besides, that might not be a good idea anyway… massages can be, ah, stimulating – and with your restrictions and all…" The billionaire waited, hoping for a reaction from his friend.

"Jesus, Josef. Thanks for reminding me and rubbing it in! Like it won't be hard enough tonight… and for the next week!"

"What are friends for if not to make sure you follow doctor's orders?" Kostan watched as the P.I. leveraged himself slowly up from the chair and began pacing. _He's got it bad. _Josef let out a low whistle."Damn. You'll never make it a week without jumping Beth's bones."

Mick snorted and lowered himself gingerly back into the blood-colored leather chair, without bothering to reply. Instead, he reached for the scotch sitting on the floor next to his chair. Swirling the liquid, he sighed morosely and tossed the drink back, grimacing as the strong alcohol burned at the back of his throat.

Josef laughed. "Boy, now that you're back in the saddle, you really don't wanna climb **down**, do you?

Mick considered - and discarded - several surly responses before answering honestly, "Do you blame me?"

Raising his head from his arms, Josef retorted, "I **could **point out that your previous enforced celibacy was of your own volition - and that I advised against it on numerous occasions - but I won't, because that's the kind of friend I am. What I will do - or, actually **did** do - was arrange for a reflexology masseuse for you. She'll be here in an hour or so. No lying down. Just sitting back and relaxing in a chair." He propped himself up on his elbows, a boyish grin on his face. "Think you can handle that... stud?"

_Fuck! _He supposed it had only been a matter of time before Josef had latched onto that particular piece of information. His only chance was not to react, not let Kostan see that the nickname, coming from him, was irritating. Nonchalantly, Mick shrugged. "Sure. Thanks, Josef."

"Don't mention it... stud." Kostan's eyes gleamed wickedly as he lowered his head back onto his arms.

Mick sighed. Clearly, he wasn't fooling his friend. "Do you mind not calling me that, by the way?"

"But... it suits you so well!" The muffled voice coming from under Josef's arm was clearly amused.

"Yeah, well, there are several names I can think of that would serve **you** well too - but I'm too good a friend to use them. I was hoping you'd reciprocate."

"Well, see, there's your problem. You think I'm as good a friend to you as you are to **me**." Josef lifted his head and smiled innocently over at the P.I., but wisely refrained from adding the offending term again.

Removing one particular word from his vocabulary, however, did not prevent the billionaire from pursuing one of his favorite pastimes - giving Mick St. John a hard time. "So," he began, propping himself up on his elbows, "you and Beth are going back to L.A. tomorrow?"

"You know we are, Josef," Mick answered patiently.

"And... then what?"

"What do you mean?" The recovering vampire shifted uneasily in his chair and reached again for the glass of scotch. He had learned long ago that it was wise to be fortified with alcohol when enduring a Kostan grilling.

"What I **mean**," Josef mimicked, pushing himself to a sitting position and waving away his masseur, "is what is your plan? Are you going to ask Beth to officially move in with you? Gonna marry the girl? What **exactly **are your intentions?"

"Jesus, Josef, you sound like her father! **I **don't know, we'll just play it by ear."

Kostan tucked the towel more securely around his midsection before reaching for his own glass of scotch. Glancing slyly at Mick as he hoisted the heavy crystal glass to his lips, he stated emphatically, "With an answer like that, you'd better thank your lucky stars I'm **not** her father! I'd be kicking your ass halfway to Petaluma." _I should do it anyway, just to knock some sense into your hard fucking head_. Josef smiled at the thought. "Might not be far enough, though," he grumbled to himself. "It's only about 450 miles."

"What?"

"Nothing, Mick."

* * *

"So, what's next on the agenda, Simone? You seem to have more information than I do." Beth's inquisitive nature chafed at the idea of anyone else knowing something she didn't - even when it was something as trivial as party preparation.

"Josef left me a sheet with times and subject, but that's all, Beth, I swear. Here, take a look for yourself." Simone pulled the heavy linen paper out of the pocket of her robe and thrust it at her companion.

Beth studied the page for a moment. "So... we have manicures and pedicures in a few minutes - and then a 'fitting with stylist'?" She raised puzzled blue eyes to Simone. "What does **that** mean?"

The slim brunette shrugged. "I have no idea. So far though, the day has been heavenly, so I'm just going with it."

Beth had to agree. The massages each woman had been treated to had been... well, heavenly **was** the right word. Each of them had drifted off to sleep for more than an hour afterward. They might still be asleep had it not been for the gourmet meal they were served, complete with a pitcher of mimosas made with the finest champagne. She licked her lips, remembering the sweet taste and glanced at the empty pitcher longingly.

As if it had been magically summoned, there was a knock at the door to the suite and a fresh pitcher of mimosas appeared, followed by two Asian women carrying all the accoutrements for pedicures.

"I think round two has arrived," Simone stated archly, with a smile for her... _friend. I think we are finally friends now. Thank you, Josef._

* * *

_**For the complete Chapter 23, Temecula (about 26,000 more words and believe us, you do NOT want to miss the party!), along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=25**

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	26. Epilogue

Please note that this posting is rated M for strong language…

Synopsis:

_**As the celebration at Temecula winds down, Josef Kostan slips away to deal with the issues threatening those he loves…**_

**Beta:** Co-authored with Brat, with invaluable beta assistance from our outstanding, committed (and possibly committ**able**) betas, treezacarr, margroks, and casi2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This is a ****partial**** posting only. The ****complete installment ****can be viewed at capeandsaber (.com) with embedded music. No membership is required to view or download the chapters at that site, although (free) membership is required to access the always-open chat room or leave a review. Reviews and comments are ****greatly**** appreciated, either here or at capeandsaber. ****Reviews, after all, are what make the world go 'round…and cause writers to write…and write…and write…**

_**Epilogue**_

_**(and don't worry, there are two sequel books planned...)**_

"_**Party Girl" by Elvis Costello**_

Josef stirred, glancing at his watch. Carefully, he slid his arm out from behind a dozing Simone, disengaging himself and springing to his feet. Solicitously, he spread a throw over her and stood, staring down at her for a moment. She was getting to him, there was no denying that. _Couldn't happen at a worse time_, he thought morosely. With a shake of his head, he turned to leave.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said to the few remaining survivors of the night's festivities. Mick and Beth, engrossed in one another, barely looked up.

Gabrielle, engaged in a tutorial with Logan and Ryder over the nuances of World of Warcraft, tore her gaze away from the laptop the three had been huddled over. Something in the vampire leader's tone had set off her internal alarms. "Everything okay, Josef?"

"Fine, everything's fine. I just need to check on something. The world of finance never stops, you know. I'll be back in a few." With a disarming smile, he moved off.

Gabby watched him for a moment, then shrugged and returned to her conversation, taking a sip from the glass of blood on the slate floor beside her. "So what happens when I kill this guy...?"

John Spector watched the interplay with interest. What was Kostan up to? Something didn't feel right... Wisely, he said nothing, content for now to watch - and wait.

Josef paused in the doorway to look back at the small group, silhouetted against a sky that was just starting to lose the deep blackness of night, a lighter sapphire blue beginning to tinge the horizon.

The party had been winding down for some time, as vampires and humans alike made their goodbyes and took their leave. The band had packed up and left an hour earlier, leaving only nature to provide background harmonies for the conversations taking place on the terrace. The remaining core group of friends had been loathe to end the night, lingering over blood and drinks, coffee and dessert.

The scene was far calmer than just a hour or so before, when Mick had snapped during the fireworks display. The sounds and smells had apparently brought back everything that happened to him in the desert. In usual St. John fashion, once he'd gotten his bearings, Mick waved off any worry or efforts to help, except for blood - and the comfort of Beth's embrace. Despite his lingering concerns, Josef had left the couple to their own devices. For now, that seemed to have been the best choice.

Glancing first at the man he called brother, Josef scanned all the faces still present. The people he cared most about in the world were gathered on that terrace... and it was his responsibility to protect them. With a sigh, he slipped into the house to fulfill that obligation.

"Is something going on?" John Spector asked, as casually as possible.

Mick shook his head. "Josef always has some deal cooking in god-knows-what part of the world. I've never seen anyone who can scheme and strategize the way he can. That's why he's the billionaire, I guess."

"And why he's the head of your community?" Spector asked curiously.

"One of the reasons," Mick replied cryptically. Turning back to Beth, he picked up her hand, lacing their fingers together. Whispering in her ear, he provoked a smile, followed by a lingering kiss.

The doctor had so many more questions he wanted to have answered, but thought better of it. Instead, he quietly observed all who remained, doing his best to ignore the disturbing sense that something more was going on than just another business deal… (Story conclusion at capeandsabe...r)

_**For the **__**complete**__** posting, along with associated pictures and music that the FF system is not able to accommodate, go to:**_

**http:/capeandsaber (.com) ?sid=14&chapter=26**

_**Note that this is not a live link due to the need to insert ( ) Remove the ( ) and copy/paste this in your URL line to obtain the link**_

_**For those of you Moonlight fans from other countries, Capeandsaber has translation capabilities for 58 different languages**_

_**We hope you'll poke around the site while you're there – stop by the always-open chat room and get acquainted!**_

_**Oh, and **__**please**__** review. We love reviews – even if you don't love our writing!**_


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